


Broken Chains Bind Ancient Pain

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, background Adaar/Cass romance, danarius was a bastard, deep discussions, fenris joins the inquisition, past casual fenris/isabela, talk of blood magic, talk of slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: Fenris ends up in Haven and joins the Inquisition by his own choice. He finds himself drawn to the strangest elven mage he’s ever met and the fascination is mutual. Solas finds that Fenris challenges many of his pre-conceptions about elves and may well change the path he is determined to walk.
So, this is my new Fenris/Solas fic. Because apparently I just love living in rarepair hell. :D





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris had been drifting in and out of consciousness for several days now. The wounds that peppered his body had become infected and though the dwarven carter who had found him was kind and gentle, he knew little about healing and hadn’t been able to do much more than push his mules as hard and fast as he could in order to get to their destination where, he had assured Fenris, there were healers aplenty. 

Fenris didn’t actually know where they were going. He was sure the dwarf had told him but it had been lost in the haze of fever. To be honest, he didn’t really care where he was going. He had left Kirkwall in the wake of the destruction of the Chantry and the battle against Meredith. He had owed Hawke a great deal but the man’s unrelenting support for the madman Anders had finally pushed Fenris too far. Whatever debt he owed Hawke had been paid in full as far as he was concerned. It was time to make his own way.

“Hoy! Get yer healers!”

He shifted a little at the sound of the dwarf’s bellow then moaned as even that tiny movement sent pain stabbing through him.

“What is it?”

That voice was strangely familiar though Fenris couldn’t quite place it. Not one of Hawke’s friends but someone familiar nonetheless.

“Found ‘im on the Imperial Highway, about a day past Gherlen’s Pass. He’s hurt real bad.”

“Maker’s breath! Fenris! You there, go and fetch Varric.”

Fenris pried his eyes open as best as he could and saw… a blur really. He blinked a few times and the blur resolved itself into a familiar face, though one that looked both tireder and more content than the last time he’d seen him.

“Knight-Captain,” Fenris slurred in a bare whisper before he faded into blackness again.

Cullen watched worriedly as Fenris passed out and wondered what the elf was doing in Ferelden in the first place. Last he’d heard, the elven warrior had still been in Kirkwall, though he’d be the first to admit that he didn’t exactly keep up with what Hawke and his friends were doing. 

“What’s the big emergency, Curly?” Varric asked as he came huffing and puffing up to the cart.

Cullen gestured towards Fenris and raised an eyebrow when Varric cursed and immediately climbed up into the cart.

“Andraste’s arse,” Varric breathed. “What’s happened to you, Broody?”

“I’ve sent for the healers,” Cullen said. “I thought he was still in Kirkwall.”

Varric gave him a grim look and shook his head. “He was getting ready to leave when the Seeker waylaid the two of us. He and Hawke never really saw eye to eye but there was some grudging mutual respect there. And I think Broody felt like he owed Hawke something for his help.” Varric sighed. “And if he and Hawke never saw eye to eye, there was even less agreement between him and Blondie. After everything that happened at the end there…”

Varric shook his head again but Cullen got the picture. Clearly there had been a falling out of some sort that had prompted Fenris to leave Kirkwall. 

“The healers will look after him,” Cullen said as two healers came charging up with a couple of soldiers carrying a stretcher. “You should go with him. He’ll probably be happier if there’s a familiar face when he wakes up.”

Varric gave him a small tired grin. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Curly.”

Cullen stepped back and allowed the healers to manoeuvre Fenris onto the stretcher and carry him off towards the Chantry. Whatever had happened between Fenris and Hawke mattered little here. They’d look after the elf as best as they could. After that, it would up to Fenris.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another establishment chapter before Fenris and Solas meet in the next one.

The first thing Fenris noticed when he woke again was that he was in a stone-walled room lit with candles. There was a woman wearing the robes of a Chantry sister moving around on one side of the room quietly and when she turned and saw he was awake, she smiled and came over. She sat down on a small stool next to the bed and gently laid a cool hand on his forehead, making sure she moved slowly and transmitted every move she made.

“Good evening, Fenris,” she said in a heavily accented Orlesian voice. “My name is Mother Giselle. How are you feeling?”

Fenris frowned as he shifted slightly. His wounds still hurt and he could feel the bandages all over his body but he didn’t feel as hot and feverish as he had been.

“Better,” he croaked.

Mother Giselle smiled kindly then reached out to the small table beside the bed and poured a cup of water. She helped him take a drink and then set the cup back down on the table.

“You’ve been feverish for five days now,” she said. “Your friend was very worried.”

She gestured to the other side of the room and Fenris turned his head enough to see Varric sleeping on a bedroll on the floor. He frowned and turned back to the priest.

“Where am I?”

“In the Chantry in Haven,” she replied. “Under the auspices of the Inquisition.” He must have still looked confused because she continued. “I am unsure if you heard of the Conclave and what happened?”

Fenris licked his lips. “I’d heard of it. Didn’t think there’d be much success.”

“Unfortunately we never found out,” Mother Giselle said with a sigh. “There was an explosion and all but one of those who were at the Conclave died. The only survivor was a Tal Vashoth mercenary called Kaaras Adaar. It’s a little more complicated than that but the rest can wait until you’re better.”

Fenris considered that then nodded. He wasn’t sure he was really interested anyway. Politics had always been something he steered well clear of.

“Why is Varric here?”

“He was brought here by the Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast,” Mother Giselle said, looking faintly amused. “I believe she wished for him to see the Divine. He has barely left your side since you were brought here. He was very concerned that you have a friendly face nearby when you woke. The Commander felt the same.”

“Commander?”

“Commander Cullen,” Mother Giselle said. “He was formerly the Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Templars.”

Fenris drew in a breath, remembering that familiar face he’s seen. “That _was_ him.”

“Indeed. Now, is there anything you need?”

Fenris frowned then nodded. “The privy?”

Mother Giselle looked slightly surprised that he showed no hesitation or reserve in asking but he had neither the strength nor the desire to tell her that a slave lost any body shyness early on. _That_ was a conversation he was rarely willing to have at the best of times. 

However Mother Giselle didn’t ask and seemed to realise that the waters she was in were deeper than they seemed. Instead all she did was help him out of bed and down the corridor to the indoor privy the Chantry had. He was wearing a loose set of pants and shirt which were easy enough to handle on his own then she helped him back to bed. He gave a shuddering sigh as he lay down again and winced.

“Good to see you awake, Broody.”

Fenris gave a start and looked over to see Varric was just sitting up. The dwarf ran a hand down his face then he smiled wryly at Fenris.

“Varric,” Fenris said with a small nod as Mother Giselle left the room. “It is… good to see you as well.”

Varric got up and stretched then came around to sit on the stool Mother Giselle had been using. “What the hell happened to you? You were about the last person I was expecting to see here.”

Fenris grimaced. “I had hunted down a group of slavers but it seemed they had made some sort of deal with some bandits. The slavers I was handling just fine on my own but when the bandits joined in…”

“Ouch. How did you get away?”

“Used my abilities,” Fenris replied. “Which was not the best idea. They… recognised me.”

Varric looked startled. “But… Danarius is dead.”

“I don’t know what was going on,” Fenris replied around a yawn. “I only know that the moment I used my abilities, they started yelling about me. It took me some time to evade them and by the time I did, my wounds were infected. If not for that merchant…”

“Yeah, he was pretty worried.” Varric patted his arm. “Get some sleep, Broody. You look like you need it.”

Fenris nodded but forced his eyes to stay open for a little longer. “What is to be done with me?”

Varric frowned at him for a moment then he shook his head. “You’re not a prisoner, Broody. Once you’re well, you can stay or go as you please.”

“You?” Fenris was having trouble staying awake no matter how hard he tried.

“I’m… staying,” Varric said then he chuckled as he realised Fenris had fallen asleep. He reached out and adjusted the blankets around the elven warrior then he sat back.

He wasn’t surprised when a knock came at the door shortly afterwards and he got up and opened it to find Leliana standing outside.

“Mother Giselle said he was awake?”

Varric edged out of the room and closed the door behind him. A little way down the corridor was Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra and Adaar and he gestured for them to come closer.

“Yeah, he was. He’s asleep again now.”

“What happened?” Cullen asked.

“Got into a bad spot with some slavers and their bandit lackeys,” Varric explained. He left out the part about the slavers recognising Fenris when he used his abilities. That could be dealt with later, when Fenris was awake and could explain a bit better. 

“Why was he in Ferelden?” Cassandra asked.

“No idea,” Varric replied. “But the hunting slavers part is probably the reason. He _really_ hates slavers.”

Cassandra nodded and Varric was reminded that she’d not only read his book but actually paid attention to the story he’d told her. 

“Um,” Adaar said, gaining their attention. “Someone want to explain who he is?”

“I’ll give you a copy of Tale of the Champion with the relevant chapters marked,” Varric said dryly. “Short version is he’s a friend from Kirkwall.”

“One of Hawke’s friends?” Adaar asked, proving he wasn’t entirely ignorant of the situation even if he wasn’t completely up on the details.

Varric grimaced. “ _Friends_ is probably pushing it. Broody and Hawke didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. There was some mutual respect there though.” He gave Cassandra a dry look. “And no, he is very unlikely to know where Hawke is. They didn’t part on particularly good terms.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Uhuh,” Varric said. “Look, I think him ending up here is just coincidence. Even under these circumstances, coincidences do happen.”

“Is he likely to stay and help?” Josephine asked, clearly doing some mental reorganisation to accommodate him.

“I… honestly couldn’t say,” Varric said, running a hand over his chin. “I’m not sure whether he knows what’s actually been going on. Give him time and don’t push him is my advice.”

The others nodded and Josephine gestured with her pen, “Well, for now Mother Giselle says he needs to stay where he is. I’ll make arrangements for when she deems him ready to be released from the healers’ care.”

“He can shack up with me,” Varric said. “We get along well enough.”

“Thank you, Varric,” Josephine said, looking relieved. 

That seemed to be a signal and everyone but Cullen moved away. Varric waited for the Commander to speak.

“I’ve had his armour and weapons cleaned and repaired,” Cullen said. “Should I have them brought here or to your tent?”

“Here,” Varric said. “He’ll feel better if he knows where they are and that they’re in easy reach. Thanks for that, Curly.”

Cullen smiled slightly. “It wasn’t a problem.”

Varric headed for the room again then he paused and looked back at the former Knight-Captain. “You should come by, now that he’s awake. He always respected you.”

Cullen frowned a little. “I’m not sure I was worthy of that respect.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Varric said with a shrug. “He was always more comfortable with the Templars then the mages so… you know.”

Cullen nodded. “I’ll make sure I have the time.”

Varric nodded and opened the door, slipping back into the room and not watching the Commander turn away with a troubled expression on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand Fenris and Solas meet. It… goes. Doesn’t go badly, doesn’t go swimmingly. It goes.

Fenris almost sprinted out of the Chantry the day the healers allowed him to leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate their aid but he wanted to breathe the fresh air and see the sky. Varric followed after him, chuckling at his hurried steps, but Fenris ignored him as he came to halt just outside the doors the Chantry. He raised his head to the thin sunlight and simply breathed in the chill air.

“Balls, Broody, aren’t your feet falling off?”

Fenris looked down to see the snow beside the hard packed earth he was standing on. “No.”

Varric shook his head. “Come on. I had them put you in with me. The rest of your stuff is in the tent.”

“I had wondered where it was,” Fenris said as he fell into step beside the dwarf. Varric had rarely left his side since he’d woken up and he was almost ridiculously grateful for it. He wasn’t sure how to say that but from the way Varric had looked at him, he was fairly sure the dwarf already knew that he would _not_ have liked being on his own among so many strangers.

“That merchant was honest.” Varric scratched his chest. “I gave him the name of a few contacts I know. They’ll see he gets some prime jobs.” Fenris looked amused and Varric waved an exasperated hand at him. “Argh, he couldn’t stay and he deserved some sort of thanks beyond just saying it and a few coins.”

Varric’s tent was near the gates of Haven and once the salves and potions the healers had given him had been stowed inside, Varric offered a tour.

“What is this Inquisition?” Fenris asked as they headed out of the gates.

“Something that was in the works before the Conclave even started as far as I can tell,” Varric replied. “The Divine might have had faith but she also seemed to be a pretty pragmatic sort of woman. I wasn’t the only one Cassandra dragged here from Kirkwall.”

“Cullen.”

Varric nodded. “Yeah, but she recruited him to command the Inquisition’s military forces and told him so there in Kirkwall. So either the Divine always figured the Conclave would fail or she had more than one set of plans for the Inquisition.”

“The last Inquisition was… hundreds of years ago.”

“Yeah,” Varric said heavily. “Says a lot that the Divine thought another one was needed.” He gestured up to the green hole in the sky. “But I guess she was right.”

Fenris looked up at the Breach. He’d gotten a brief explanation – more of a summary than anything else – of the events at the Conclave and the formation of the Breach and the discovery of the Herald from Varric and Cullen while he was still recovering. Varric had promised a more detailed explanation later. It had all seemed like madness at the time but looking up at the great hole in the sky now, there seemed little that was mad and a great deal that was terrifying about it.

“They truly believe this Herald can actually close that?” he asked.

“He’s been closing the smaller rifts and made a pretty good attempt the first time at the big one.” Varric shook his head. “That was a hell of a thing.”

“You were there?” Fenris asked, looking down at Varric.

The dwarf nodded. “I’d gone down into the valley to help out and Chuckles and I went with the Herald and the Seeker to make the attempt at the Breach.”

“It’s nice to know your tendency towards using nicknames extends beyond us,” Fenris said dryly.

Varric grinned up at him. “I’ll introduce you to Chuckles. Solas is his name.” He paused. “He’s a mage but he’s nothing like Anders or Merrill. You might actually like him.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “I find that difficult to believe,” he said with just enough amusement to soften the words.

“Stranger things have happened,” Varric said airily.

Nevertheless, Fenris let Varric lead him around the tavern and up towards a trio of cabins. Outside one of them, perched on the low wall that bracketed the upper area, was an elf who was reading a book with solemn seriousness.

“Chuckles,” Varric said and Fenris realised he was talking to the elf. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet. This is Fenris.”

Solas looked up from his book, his eyes moving from Varric to Fenris. For a moment, Fenris saw something akin to disdain in his eyes as they fixed on the brands on his chin then the elf’s eyes widened and his gaze shot up to look Fenris in the eye.

“Those are… lyrium.”

Fenris halted where he was, his hand twitching towards the sword on his back. He almost smiled when Varric stepped partially in front of him. Solas seemed to realise the sudden potential for violence and he set his book aside and held out his hands, palms up.

“Forgive me,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “My manners are deplorable.”

“Yeah, there’s better ways to start things off than that, Chuckles,” Varric grumbled. He did not move from his position in front of Fenris.

“I did not mean to cause you any alarm,” Solas said to Fenris. “I was simply… startled.”

“Most mages don’t react that much to them,” Fenris said.

“I daresay most mages you have met are Circle mages,” Solas said dryly. “So that is entirely understandable.”

Fenris quirked an eyebrow. “You are not a Circle mage? You’re not Dalish.”

Solas’ smile was small. “I am an apostate. I was born in a village some ways to the north but I have spent much of my life travelling.”

“An apostate,” Fenris said flatly.

“Just about every mage is an apostate now, Broody,” Varric said, moving back beside Fenris and patting his arm. 

Fenris grunted sourly. “I am aware of that and the Templars have gone mad so there is no one to stop them when they fall to blood magic and madness.”

“You _could_ try some optimism when it comes to the mages,” Varric said dryly. “You never know, they might actually live up to it.”

Fenris snorted. “Now _that_ would surprise me.”

“You have a poor opinion of mages,” Solas observed.

“I am from Tevinter. I was a slave to a Magister.”

As they watched, Solas’ eyes dropped to the markings on Fenris’ chin and he put two and two together. In fact, he seemed to go beyond that as he frowned thoughtfully then his eyes widened. He radiated anger for a moment then quickly got himself under control.

“What was his purpose in doing…” He gestured towards his own chin to indicate the markings. “…that to you?”

“Chuckles,” Varric said warningly but he subsided when Fenris placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I remember nothing of my life before and afterwards he used me as a… bodyguard. Among other things.” He smirked. “ _I_ can use them however.”

“How so?” Solas asked.

Fenris activated them, as always the familiar pain was there but it was something he was so used to now that he barely noticed it. He flashed white then disappeared into his ghost state for a moment before reappearing.

“He can also stick his hand into your chest and crush your heart,” Varric said with an edge of warning to his voice. “I don’t recommend asking for a demonstration of that one.”

“Hmm, yes, I think I will pass.” Solas arched an eyebrow but looked interested nonetheless. “You use them in combat then. You have adapted the power of the lyrium to your abilities.”

“I have,” Fenris said, raising his chin.

“Remarkable.” Solas gave him a nod of approval then he looked concerned. “The red lyrium. Have you encountered any of it?”

Fenris frowned and glanced down at Varric. “What of the red lyrium?”

Varric groaned. “That’s right. It was all over the crater where the Temple of Sacred Ashes was and the Inquisition has been getting reports that it’s appearing all over the place. It’s certainly in the Hinterlands.” He looked at Fenris with worry. “You weren’t with us in the Deep Roads. I have no idea how you’ll react to it.”

Fenris frowned. It was true that he had not gone with Hawke into the Deep Roads. Hawke had taken his brother and Anders with him and returned with the lesser of the two in Fenris’ eyes. He’d heard of the red lyrium statue but had not seen it until the final battle when Meredith had revealed her sword.

“I didn’t notice anything when we fought Meredith,” he said. “But there was a great deal of magic being used in that battle, including blood magic. I’m not sure I would have noticed.”

“I have not had an opportunity to examine red lyrium in any great depth,” Solas said. “But it is certainly corrupted. I don’t know if it could have an effect on the lyrium you bear in your skin but I fear that it might.”

“So, am I supposed to stay locked up?” Fenris said, his expression becoming dangerous.

Varric snorted and looked amused. “Like that would work.”

“I don’t know what the answer is, Fenris,” Solas said. “But I understand you have just been released by the healers so finding that answer can surely wait for a few days.”

Fenris gave a curt nod. He wasn’t sure he wanted anything to do with this Inquisition but he wasn’t in a fit state to travel, especially in the cold.

“Come on, Broody,” Varric said, patting him on the back. “There’s a few more people I should introduce you to then you should get some rest.”

“Have you turned into a mother hen?” Fenris asked dryly but he nodded to Solas and let Varric drag him around the cabins and towards a set of tents outside the Chantry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris meets the Herald of Andraste and officially joins the Inquisition.

Fenris sat on a rock near one of the Inquisition’s great trebuchets and wriggled his toes in the new pair of boots Harritt had finished for him just that morning. He’d been in Haven for a couple of weeks and he’d had to concede that the cold was intense enough to need more protection, even for his hardened feet. It felt odd to be wearing boots though. Boots were for masters, not slaves. He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts and looked back at the little village.

There had been quite a bit of upheaval since his arrival. The Herald had gone to Val Royeaux the day after he’d been released, taking Varric with him. Apparently he’d been putting that off until Varric was available and while he’d felt unnerved to have the dwarf disappear so quickly, it wasn’t the first time he’d been in a strange place on his own. And there were some friendly faces here. 

Cullen, whom he’d found to be rather different to the tormented Templar he’d met in Kirkwall, was one and he liked the differences in the man. They’d struck up the early stages of a friendship and as it turned out, Cullen wasn’t anywhere near as humourless as he’d seemed back in Kirkwall. He certainly seemed to appreciate Fenris’ dry sense of humour.

Leliana had been another familiar face. Hawke had taken him along for that meeting but he hadn’t realised Sister Nightingale had held such an auspicious position with the former Divine. It made him wonder whether the talk of the Exalted March had ever been anything more than rumours used to smoke out much-needed information. He hadn’t asked Leliana that question and he wasn’t sure he ever would. It seemed a bit of a moot point these days.

But since the Herald’s return from Val Royeaux, he’d been in and out of Haven and every time he returned it was with another ally. Fenris had steered well clear of Madame Vivienne to the point where he wasn’t sure the woman even knew he was in the village. Sera was… entertaining, as was the Iron Bull, though he’d been wary around the Ben Hassrath initially. However Bull was different enough from both the Arishok and Tallis to allow Fenris to relax a little. Blackwall was still a mystery though. The Warden was a taciturn sort of man but a good sparring partner as Fenris had found out that morning.

“Hi.”

Fenris gave a start and turned to see the enormous Qunari Herald approaching. He nodded a greeting and shifted so that he was facing the man.

“Herald.”

The Herald winced. “I don’t suppose you’d call me Kaaras? This Herald of Andraste stuff gives me the willies.”

It was just as well that Adaar was a Qunari as his manner had enough jarring similarities to Hawke’s that Fenris might have gotten defensive otherwise.

“I could do that if you wish.”

“I wish,” Adaar said dryly. “How are you? I haven’t had a chance to properly catch up until now.”

“I am… well,” Fenris said with surprise. He had been briefly introduced to Adaar after he’d brought back Madame Vivienne but it hadn’t been much more than just that brief introduction. He hadn’t known the Herald cared to know more. “I didn’t know you were interested.”

“Any friend of Varric’s is a friend of mine,” Adaar said amiably.

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “Varric has some interesting friends.”

“I’m a Vashoth mercenary. I’m used to interesting people.”

Fenris cocked his head. “Vashoth? Not Tal Vashoth?”

Adaar looked surprised. “You know the difference?”

“I spent a number of years on Seheron,” Fenris replied. “I picked up a little Qunlat and some knowledge of the Qun.”

“Puts you ahead of most people here.”

Fenris looked amused. “I can imagine.”

Adaar laughed. “But in answer to your question, yes, Vashoth. My parents are Tal Vashoth but I was born outside the Qun.”

“You’ve never been interested in joining the Qun?”

Adaar held out his hand and there was a curl of lighting around his fingers. “I’m a mage. I’m not really interested in being collared and chained.”

“I can sympathise,” Fenris said dryly.

Adaar hesitated. “I’ve… read Varric’s book.”

“Remember that Varric has never met a story that he couldn’t embellish,” Fenris said dryly.

“So…?”

“The story is right in general but takes certain liberties.” Fenris hesitated. “I was a slave in Tevinter and, yes, I killed both my master and his favourite apprentice.”

“I liked those parts,” Adaar said with a grin. “Did you really shove your hand into their chests?”

“Yes.”

Adaar gave him a speculative look then chuckled. “I want to see that some time. Which kind of brings me to why I’m here. What are your plans?”

“I… haven’t made any,” Fenris replied. “Varric is concerned about the effects of the red lyrium on my markings. Solas has asked if I would be willing to stay until he has a chance to determine whether I’m in danger.” He sighed. “I don’t… I don’t have any specific place to be.”

Adaar nodded. “You may have noticed that I’ve been collecting useful people into what Cassandra’s been calling my Inner Circle. I was wondering whether you’d be willing to join as well.”

Fenris gave him a startled look. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Adaar raised an eyebrow. “I was watching you spar with Blackwall this morning and you’re a hell of a warrior. I could use that. I’d say you come highly recommended by Varric because you do but he’s also torn between wanting to let you do whatever you want. So… I want you to know that it’s your choice. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do and if you don’t want to be a part of my Inner Circle, you can still stay. If you want to help, I’m sure there are plenty of things that can be done. Or we can provide an escort to wherever you want to go.”

Fenris looked away as he considered the offer. His initial reaction as to decline but he had hesitated before saying anything rash. His first reaction was this was just like Hawke but just as quickly he had discarded that. Because it wasn’t. This wasn’t him owing Adaar anything. This was an offer that he was free to accept or decline as he wished, with no hard feelings if he decided it wasn’t for him. 

“I… accept,” he said slowly.

“Are you sure?” Adaar frowned a little. “You don’t have to make the decision now if you want to think about it.”

“I’m sure,” Fenris said. “Perhaps it is time to have some purpose again.”

“You mean beyond slaughtering every slaver you can find?” Adaar said with a grin.

“Beyond that,” Fenris replied, smiling slightly in return.

“I mean, if we come across any slavers, I see no reason not to deal with them very firmly.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Adaar laughed and held out one massive hand. “Welcome aboard, Fenris.” He hesitated. “I gather you’ll be able to work with the Inquisition’s mages.”

Fenris snorted as he shook Adaar’s hand. “I worked with Anders and Merrill, did I not?”

“True,” Adaar conceded. “And me?”

Fenris shrugged. “A Vashoth mage is interesting.”

“I’ll take that,” Adaar said. “And I promise I’m not planning on turning to blood magic or anything like that.”

“Good.” He hesitated for a moment. “May I ask a question?”

Adaar nodded. “Of course.”

“What happened at the Conclave? Varric didn’t have a chance to tell me the details before he left for Val Royeaux with you and I believe he’s forgotten that he didn’t tell me.”

Adaar let out a gusty breath and moved around to sit down on a rock near Fenris. “Let me sit down. This is going to take some time and you have to know that I don’t remember everything. But I’ll tell you what I do know.”

Fenris nodded and settled in to listen and understand what was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaar has been dragging them all over the HInterlands. Fenris and Solas have a chat about that, among other things.

Fenris couldn’t remember ever greeting a campsite with such relief before in his life, even more so because it was already set up and he didn’t have to lift a finger to prepare it. He stepped into the tent indicated by the Inquisition soldier and shrugged off his sword with a grunt of relief. Just because he _could_ carry and wield the enormous weapon didn’t mean that he always found it enjoyable.

The tent flap shifted and someone came in but a quick glance showed him it was Solas. He gave the mage a nod then concentrated pulling off the more easily removable parts of his armour, leaving him in just his leggings and tunic. He’d left his boots at the first Inquisition camp in the area, preferring to go barefoot when he could. He’d shared a tent with Solas during this entire trip to the Hinterlands and had been surprised to find that the mage was agreeable company. He was quiet and considerate and, when they had a chance to speak, surprisingly interesting.

“May I?”

He looked over and saw Solas gesturing towards his sword. He nodded and watched with amusement as Solas struggled to lift the enormous weapon.

“I had wondered,” Solas murmured as he put the sword down. “You use weapons no different to those the Iron Bull does and yet…”

“I’m half his size,” Fenris said dryly. “Or less.”

“It is incongruous,” Solas said, looking amused and intrigued. “And I am sure I am not the first to comment on it.”

One thing he liked about Solas was that he had never assumed that Fenris was stupid. His still shaky literacy had come to light early on when he’d been unable to decipher some documents Josephine had given to him to sign so that he could be paid for his time and efforts. His initial surge of anger rising from the humiliation of being found out had subsided as quickly as it had arisen when Josephine had handled things so deftly, offering no pity or condescension but merely practical aid.

He had no idea how Solas had found out but the mage had offered to continue the education Josephine had started when they were on the road. Fenris had been suspicious at first but he reluctantly accepted. Like Josephine, Solas offered only help and had seemed to know that just because he couldn’t read or write very well didn’t mean that he was uneducated. In fact, Solas had simply assumed that Fenris’ ability to retain knowledge of things he heard was considerable. Which it was.

“No, you are not,” Fenris replied. “And to answer your next question, I have no idea whether it is due to the markings or not. I have seen elves wield weapons just like mine so I would say not.”

Solas nodded thoughtfully. “They have trained all their lives.”

“As I might have,” Fenris pointed out. “Just because I have no memory from before the markings were placed on me does not mean I was not training from a young age.”

A wry expression grew on Solas’ face. “Very true. Forgive me, Fenris, I do not mean to act as though everything remarkable about you comes from the magic in those markings. I have simply seen nothing like them before.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “Not even in the Fade?” he asked dryly.

“Not even there,” Solas said with a chuckle. “Your former master was truly unique in his depravity.”

“He would have taken that as a compliment,” Fenris said sourly.

“He does sound like the type.”

Fenris cocked his head. His sole conscious trip into the Fade had been to aid the boy Feynriel and it… had not gone well. Hawke had been remarkably humorous about the way Fenris – along with everyone else – had turned on him but Fenris had been disquieted about it. That he, with all his suspicions, would believe a demon had not led to easy sleep for the next few weeks, even with Isabela’s distractions. He snorted softly. _I like big boats_. That woman was a menace.

“How is it that you can walk the Fade so easily?”

Solas looked surprised and Fenris supposed it was not without cause. He had made his feelings about magic quite plain since Adaar had accepted him into his Inner Circle. Vivienne had been offended but subsequently she had seemed thoughtful. He had no idea what was going on there. Adaar had rolled his eyes and looked forlorn and pathetic until Fenris scowled and laughed against his better judgement and decided to trust the huge Vashoth until he proved otherwise. Solas had… simply given him a respectful nod and had been careful with his magic around him. He had appreciated that.

“I have trained myself to do so,” Solas replied. “It takes only a strong will and magic.” He cocked his head. “You may be able to do so as well. I cannot be sure but the lyrium would give you a stronger connection to the Fade than most non-mages would have.”

Fenris shuddered. “I… think not. My last experience in the Fade was not pleasant.” He grumbled at Solas’ raised eyebrow. “I accepted the offer of a demon. I do not know why, other than it seemed to make sense at the time.”

Solas looked wary. “You… accepted the offer…”

Fenris waved a hand. “I came to no harm. It was a… controlled expedition if you wish, organised and aided by the Keeper of a Dalish clan. I was simply expelled from the Fade after Hawke defeated me. Other than a headache worse than anything that has come from wine, I was fine.”

“I am relieved to hear that.”

“I thought you liked demons.”

Solas smiled slightly. “Demons are simply spirits that have been corrupted for some reason. They can return to their normal state under some circumstances.” He shrugged. “Even if not, they can be reasoned with, if one is exceptionally careful.”

“And you are?” Fenris asked dubiously.

“Always,” Solas replied, his expression brooking no doubt or demur. “I underestimate nothing in the Fade.”

Fenris believed him. He might not have believed that coming from many other mages but Solas he believed. 

“Now, come,” Solas said gesturing towards the tent flap. “Let us eat and get some rest. No doubt Adaar intends to drag us over the _other_ half of the Hinterlands tomorrow.”

Fenris actually laughed at that and followed the mage out of the tent.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Redcliffe proves what Fenris has always known - Magisters are nothing but trouble.

Somehow Fenris managed to control himself until after the Magister’s lackey had walked away and was out of earshot. He then let loose a string of curses in both the common tongue and Tevene that had Adaar and Varric giving him impressed looks.

“Now I’ve heard you swear before, Broody,” Varric said, “but that’s the best yet.”

“Do you know this Alexius?” Adaar asked.

Fenris shook his head. “No. I know the name though. He was a highly reputed scholar from what little I’d heard.” He scowled. “ _Magisters_.”

“Yes, yes, Magisters are terrible,” Varric said patiently. “Any other light you can shed on the situation? The only other Tevinters I’ve had anything to do with are Danarius and Hadriana.”

Fenris shot him a scorching glare which the dwarf more or less ignored. “Not as yet.” His scowl deepened. “We should find out what is going on. If a Magister is involved, then it is likely to be unpleasant.”

Unpleasant turned out to be an understatement. Fenris was careful to keep well away from the Magister and his son, shifting to stand behind Solas who did not spare him a glance but who did move firmly in front of him while Varric took a few steps forward to act as a more immediate distraction. The Magister proved to be just as oily and unctuous as Fenris remembered of them but the son was a different matter.

“Mages,” Fenris snarled as they emerged into the sunlight from the tavern.

“Yes, we’re terrible,” Adaar said with gentle amiability. He had not once seemed offended by Fenris’ attitude and it made him wonder exactly what Varric had told the huge Herald ‘off the record’ as it were. “Actually, I can’t argue too much with you there. What _possessed_ them to accept that offer? Other than sheer stupidity.”

The Herald smirked at Fenris and the elven warrior snorted then said, “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

The trip to the Chantry was interesting, not least to find out that Alexius’ own son and his protégé were scheming against him. Once again, Fenris had faded back into the shadows after the battle but as he watched the Herald talk to Felix and this Dorian Pavus, he realised that he _recognised_ Pavus. He’d thought he was wrong at first but then as the light and the shadows shifted across the man’s face, he saw a _younger_ face past the moustache and the attitude and remembered a boy about his own age or maybe a bit younger with a Magister. 

The Magister had been disdainful and irritated but the boy… the boy had stared at Fenris with a mix of horror and appreciation. A strange mix but Fenris actually understood that well enough. Regardless of his many failings, Danarius had possessed an eye for the aesthetic and Fenris could objectively acknowledge that the markings on his body were attractive to look at as they swirled and curved around him. Given he’d been stripped naked on that day, there had been much for the boy to admire. But the abject horror in the boy’s eyes had been enough to stop him from hating him outright. The boy had clearly known enough about magic even at that age to realise at least some of the implications of what had been done.

It wasn’t until they had gotten out of the Chantry and Redcliffe as a whole that he became aware that his disquiet had been noticed by the others.

“Alright there, Broody?” Varric said, falling into step beside him. “There was a distinct lack of snarky comments about Tevinter in general and mages in particular.”

“I know him,” Fenris said abruptly. He immediately got a collection of startled looks and elaborated. “Pavus. It was… years ago. Not long after this was done to me.” He gestured towards his body. “He was… young. My age or around there.”

“I take it his reaction wasn’t to applaud and think they were wonderful or you’d have shoved your hand into his chest,” Varric said dryly.

Fenris shook his head. “No, he was… appalled.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Adaar said. “That he’s genuine in what he’s doing now?”

Fenris shrugged. “I know little about House Pavus beyond that the Magister and his son came visiting Danarius. We left for Seheron only a few weeks after that.”

“I don’t think he really looked at you,” Varric said, sounding a little hesitant.

“He didn’t,” Fenris said. “Neither did Alexius’ son.” He smirked a little. “I took a position behind and away from Adaar and I held myself in a way they would recognise, subconsciously if nothing else. They saw me but my posture said ‘slave’ so they didn’t look any further.”

“I’m not sure I like what that says about them,” Adaar said with a frown.

Fenris paused and considered it from Adaar’s perspective then he shrugged. “Slavery is endemic in Tevinter. It is no fault of theirs that they have benefited from it. If any fault rests on their shoulders, it is that they have done nothing to change it or speak against it. I merely took advantage of the way they have been brought up.” He arched an eyebrow. “You may have noticed that they paid little attention to Solas as well.” He shot a sly look at the mage. “You were holding yourself in a way not dissimilar to me.”

Solas returned that sly look. “It seemed prudent.”

Varric was looking at Fenris with amusement and pride. “I always forget how sneaky you are, Broody. I may have undersold you a bit in my book.”

Adaar was staring at Fenris like he’d never seen him before then he shook his head and chuckled. “More fool me. I’ve been making assumptions.”

Fenris cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Uh…” Adaar looked a little abashed. “Josephine mentioned your… problem with reading when I mentioned throwing a report at you for your opinion.”

Fenris snorted. “You thought I was stupid.”

“No!” Adaar protested. “Not that. I just…” He scratched at the base of one of his horns. “I don’t know.”

“You equated illiteracy with a lack of education,” Solas said in a dry, almost censorious tone.

Adaar had the good grace to look shame-faced and apologetic. “Yeah, I guess I did. I’m sorry.”

Fenris shrugged. “Most do and it’s not actually incorrect. I have obviously not received any proper education, not that I remember anyway. But Danarius favoured the classics and liked to pretend he was far more civilised than he actually was. He often held poetry and book readings and attended as many plays and debates and so on that he could. I was always brought along as his bodyguard.”

And sometimes something else but they didn’t need to know that.

“And you remember it?” Adaar asked, looking genuinely curious. “What was said?”

“Mostly. The gist of it, if not the actual words,” Fenris said with a nod. “My memory is excellent. It had to be.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to put that ability to use for me?” Adaar said, giving Fenris a sufficiently plaintive and pleading look that he laughed.

“I could be persuaded.”

“I’m good at persuading,” Adaar said with a rather ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows then he sobered. “But back to the matter at hand.”

“As much as I am loathe to extract the mages from their own stupidity, allowing a Magister to remain in Ferelden would not be wise,” Fenris said reluctantly.

“I would agree that allowing Alexius to remain unchecked could well be disastrous,” Solas added.

Adaar nodded. “That’s pretty much what I was thinking. Alright. Let’s head back to Haven and see what we can do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Herald returns to Redcliffe, Solas and Fenris are left behind in Haven. They take the time to talk magic and Magisters.

Fenris wandered along the path towards the tavern in Haven, feeling faintly disgruntled. Although he couldn’t fault the Herald’s decision to leave him behind for the confrontation with Alexius since he was probably the _last_ person that should be brought along for anything that was supposed to combine diplomacy and Tevinter, he did rather wish he could have been there. So he could shove his hand into Alexius’ chest, if nothing else. Also he didn’t exactly trust Pavus.

Movement out of the corner of his eye stopped him before he could enter the tavern and he looked around to see Solas once again perched on the low wall on the upper level. The mage wasn’t reading this time but seemed to be meditating or something similar. He hesitated for a moment then made his way up to the mage.

“Fenris,” Solas said, without opening his eyes and Fenris arched an eyebrow.

“Impressive.”

A faint smile curled Solas’ lips. “The wind is blowing from behind you and the scent of lyrium is distinctive.”

“I’ll remember that,” Fenris said dryly, settling himself cross-legged on the wall.

“Few other than mages would recognise the scent,” Solas said, his eyes still closed.

“All the more reason to remember it.”

Now Solas opened his eyes. His expression was sombre as he said, “Not all mages are a threat to you.”

Fenris gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Perhaps but I must consider them that way until they prove otherwise. You know as well as I do that these markings make me a walking magical battery. I am a living breathing temptation to any mage who desires power.”

Solas cocked his head. “Is that why you did not get along with Hawke? Varric glides over the subject rather deftly but it is there if you look in the spaces between his words.”

“No.” Fenris snorted. “I took issue with Hawke because he was blindly loyal to the abomination and because he chose the path of blood magic.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at that. “Blood magic is not inherently evil. I have studied it, though I do not use it. It inhibits a mage’s ability to reach the Fade.”

Fenris snorted again. As if Solas would do anything to inhibit his ability to enter the Fade. “I have known many blood mages in Tevinter and Seheron. They may start with good intentions but it always leads to something far worse.”

“Are you including Hawke in that?”

Fenris hesitated. The more churlish part of him wanted to say yes, that after Hawke’s unswerving support of Anders, he was sure that Hawke would do _anything_ , especially if it was to protect Anders, but if he was honest, he couldn’t say that. Hawke had his faults to be sure but he’d never shown signs of wanting to slaughter the innocent. But then, who was to say what he might do in an extreme. No one knew what _any_ mage would do in an extreme.

“I cannot say.”

“Cannot or will not?”

Fenris shrugged. “He is a decent man but he is also a blood mage. Blood magic seduces. That’s why it is dangerous. Who is to say it will not eventually seduce Hawke as well.”

Solas arched an eyebrow. “You know a great deal about magic for someone who hates it so much.”

“My master was a _Magister_ ,” Fenris said with a snort. “He kept me close so, yes, I saw a great deal of both ordinary magic and blood magic. And I’m not stupid. I was able to work out a great deal just from watching and from listening to his conversations with others. I do not hate blindly, Solas.”

Solas gave him a long considering look then he nodded once. “No, it seems you do not. At least not entirely. That is a rare thing.”

“I worked for nearly ten years with two blood mages and an abomination,” Fenris said dryly. “No matter how Varric painted me in his books, I think I can manage to be reasonable. I did not shove my fist through the chest of that overly pretty Altus, did I?”

Solas looked amused. “No, though there were moments when you looked tempted.”

Fenris shifted where he was sitting and looked away. “There were moments when I was,” he admitted in a low voice, returning Solas’ mild teasing with an unexpected seriousness. “Not for anything he had done but because of what he represents. His voice, his mannerisms, even the way I can make him overlook me so easily. It all brings back memories I would prefer not to think about.”

“That is not his fault,” Solas said.

“I know,” Fenris snapped. “It’s just the way things are there but what I don’t know is how he really sees me. As a person or a thing?”

“So ask him.”

Fenris shrugged. “That’s a bit hard right now.”

“When he comes back then,” Solas said dryly, looking slightly unimpressed with Fenris’ literalness. He then gave Fenris a shrewd look. “Now what is really troubling you?”

“You think Pavus doesn’t trouble me?”

“I think he does but that is not what has you like this.”

Fenris sighed. “I am as uncomfortable here as I was in Kirkwall. At least there I knew why. I was a ragtag elf squatting in a Hightown mansion and openly wandering around among my _betters_.” He said the last word with contempt. “Here, I am an outsider as well, finding my place yet again. It seems sometimes that the only place where I was accepted without question was in Tevinter and that…” He grimaced. “Is not an option.”

He wasn’t sure why he was trusting Solas with this except that the elf seemed to understand. It wasn’t that he _tried_ to understand but that he _did_ understand. He never dismissed or belittled Fenris’ opinions either. He might call him on some of his more unreasonable ones but in general he treated everything Fenris felt and thought as valid and reasonable, even his fear and hate of magic.

“It is always difficult being different,” Solas said quietly. “Whether it is only a difference of opinion or…” He smiled wryly and gestured around them, “…being an elf among so many humans in an organisation ostensibly dedicated to the Chantry. A Chantry that does not have a history of treating elves well. But we are here because the Herald wants us here, because he values our abilities above and beyond the others. Take some measure of comfort in that if nothing else.”

“The last Qunari mage I dealt with was collared, chained and had his lips sewn shut,” Fenris said dryly. “He also set himself on fire rather than be free.”

“And people wonder why I have such issues with the Qun,” Solas muttered.

“I can’t say it is a worse life than being a slave.” Fenris shrugged. “At least for those who aren’t mages.”

“It is merely slavery of a different form,” Solas said sharply.

“Perhaps but it is a slavery that sees you fed and clothed properly and ensures you are not mistreated.” He arched an eyebrow. “That means more than you might think. You have always been free. You do not know what it is like.” 

“You will not change my mind on the Qun,” Solas said dryly.

Fenris looked amused. “I’m not trying to. It is not something I would wish to join either because it is slavery as much as they try to deny it. But you don’t know what it is like to be a slave, how it affects your thinking and how difficult it is to be free.”

Solas was so still and silent that Fenris blinked and looked at him curiously, watching the complicated expressions flow over his face. Then the mage shook himself and his answer was wary. “I know more than you might think.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer Fenris had been expecting. “Oh?”

Solas’ smile was quick and a little wintery. “I won’t insult your intelligence by saying that it was in the Fade. I cannot tell you right now but suffice to say I have dealt with the mentality that slavery leaves.”

That was one of the more interesting and frustrating answers Solas had ever given him but Fenris didn’t think it was a lie. Whatever the circumstances were, Solas had some very close and personal experience with the way slaves thought. He wanted to ask more questions but from the closed off expression on Solas’ face, he didn’t think he’d get much in the way of answers.

“You have done well,” Solas said, breaking into his thoughts.

Fenris grimaced. “Have I? I wonder sometimes.”

“If you are asking whether you will ever be… well, normal, for lack of a better word?” Solas shook his head. “Then no, you will not. You were born and raised a slave and your master was particularly unpleasant. That sort of thing leaves permanent scars, both visible and otherwise. The best you can do is reclaim yourself and your mind and let the rest fall into place. You have done well. Do not let anyone else, including your own darker thoughts, tell you otherwise.”

Fenris was silent for a time as he thought about that. Solas let him be and closed his eyes, apparently returning to his meditations. People moved past them from time to time – soldiers on their patrols, people going to and from the apothecary – but none of them disturbed the two elves. It was only when Fenris shivered, the cold of the place finally settling into his bones, that Solas opened his eyes again.

“Come,” the mage said, unfolding himself gracefully from his position on the wall. “It is almost time for the evening meal.”

Fenris nodded and got up. He was still sorting through his thoughts but allowed himself to be drawn out of them for now in favour of a meal and some warmth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for the Herald to return, Fenris and Solas talk some more, this time about the Dalish. Later, they speak with Adaar about what happened in Redcliffe.

It was a few days later as they were waiting for the Herald’s return that Fenris found himself sitting beside Solas again, this time on one of the rock piles near the entrance to the village. Word had arrived the previous evening that Adaar had allied with the mages but there had been some trouble. Solas seemed pleased about the alliance and concerned about what might have gone wrong. Fenris was just feeling sour in general for reasons that had nothing to do with the Herald’s decisions. Being called ‘knife ear’ always set him on edge and he’d had that particular epithet directed at him three times today. Twice had been by soldiers as he trained them, though at least on those occasions he’d had the pleasure of seeing those soldiers set on their heels very abruptly by Commander Cullen.

“Why do you dislike the Dalish?” he asked, apropos of nothing but simply because he was curious.

Solas blinked, a little surprised by the question. “I do not _dislike_ the Dalish,” he said slowly. “I… confess to being frustrated by them and their insularity. And by their habit of clinging to knowledge they do not understand as though it were precious gems.” He sighed and looked rather rueful. “I will also confess to not always being as patient as perhaps I ought to be.”

“Some of them try and understand,” Fenris said, looking even more sour than he had before.

“Oh?”

“Merrill.” Fenris rolled his eyes, an almost automatic reaction when it came to the former Dalish First. “One of the blood mages I knew in Kirkwall. She was attempting to understand and rebuild an… eluvian, I think she called it.”

He suddenly had Solas’ undivided attention. “She possessed an eluvian?”

“A broken one,” Fenris said, wondering why this was of such great interest. “It had harmed some members of her old clan and taken one of them. I think she wanted to find him or at least what had happened to him.”

Solas frowned and cocked his head. “It harmed them?”

“Yes, left them Blighted. She said that the mirror was destroyed by a Grey Warden and he said it had become tainted by the Blight,” Fenris said with a frown as he tried to remember all of Merrill’s ramblings about the mirror. Hawke had found combining him and Merrill as frustrating as combining him and Anders so he hadn’t often been out with either mage. Usually when he was asked to come along, it was in the company of Hawke, Aveline and either Varric or Isabela. On a few occasions, Sebastian had been there. “She collected what was left of it when she was sent to her new clan and has been attempting to restore it. By consorting with demons.”

Solas blinked and stared at him for a moment. “I scarcely know where to start with that.”

Fenris chuckled. “Merrill is… unique.”

“Had she had any success?”

“I don’t know,” Fenris said with a shrug. “We were not close and I left shortly after everything collapsed in Kirkwall. I believe she is still there, helping the elves in the alienage.”

The conversation was brought to a halt as Adaar, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian came into view. They looked tired and more than a little unsettled. Cassandra also looked slightly disapproving and in their wake came a rather extraordinary group that consisted of soldiers’ escorting a very disgruntled and despondent Alexius, the Magister’s son, Felix, and a number of older mages, who simply looked relieved to see the village. Things devolved into a wash of organised chaos as Cullen, Josephine and Leliana came out and started getting things organised. It wasn’t until much later that a runner came for both of them.

“Herald Adaar would like to speak to both of you, serahs,” the young woman said with crisp salute. “He’s in the Chantry refectory.”

“Thank you,” Solas said then he arched an eyebrow at Fenris. “Shall we?”

“Why not?”

They made their way into the Chantry and found Adaar slumped at one of the tables in the refectory, a bowl of stew in front of him that he was shovelling into his mouth with fervent enthusiasm.

“Dinner,” he said, nodding towards the serving area

Fenris and Solas fetched their own meals and sat down opposite the huge Vashoth mage. They were silent for a time as they ate then Adaar finished off his meal and pushed the bowl away.

“Well, that was a fun trip,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I think Cassandra’s going to be pissed at me for weeks.”

“Oh?” Solas said with amusement. “What did you do?”

“Allied with the mages instead of conscripting them,” Adaar said. “She thinks I’m being too soft on them.”

“And are you?”

Adaar rubbed at the base of his horns with one hand. “Maybe but a lot of them weren’t in agreement with what Fiona did. They don’t deserve to be punished for her mistake.”

“A valid point,” Solas said.

“I wish Cassandra agreed.” Adaar sighed and looked a little lovelorn. 

Fenris blinked and then snorted quietly. Solas gave him an enquiring look and Fenris just shook his head with a faint smile. He certainly hadn’t seen that one coming and he wondered how the Seeker would respond. Given Varric’s description of how she had seemed to hero worship Hawke based on Varric’s overblown Tale of the Champion, he suspected there were hidden depths to the woman, many of them in the romantic direction.

“Anyway,” Adaar said. “Solas, you said you knew how to train the mages for this attempt on the Breach?”

Solas nodded. “I can begin tomorrow if you would like.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Adaar replied. “The best of the mages came with us for that purpose. The rest are following a bit more slowly.” He sighed again. “King Alistair’s a tad peeved at the mages and I don’t think he’s terribly impressed with the Inquisition either.”

“He has cause,” Solas admitted. 

Adaar rubbed his face with a hand and nodded. “He does. Maker, I could sleep for a week but I don’t think I’m going to be able to.”

“What happened?” Solas asked.

“We travelled forward in time thanks to that weird magic of Alexius’ that was warping the rifts.” Adaar shook his head. “Dorian and I got thrown about a year ahead. Still in Redcliffe Castle, just a year ahead.”

“Remarkable,” Solas said, leaning forward a little. “This was real, not some illusion of the Fade.”

“I’m a mage,” Adaar said dryly. “I think I’d recognise it if I was in the Fade.”

Solas gave a conceding nod. “A good point. And what did this vision of the future teach you?”

“That we’re screwed if we don’t close the Breach,” Adaar said dryly. “Though to be honest I’m not sure how much of what happened was because we didn’t close the Breach and how much of it had to do with the fact I wasn’t there to even try, let alone to close the rifts like I’ve been doing.”

“Were you able to learn what Alexius was attempting to do?”

Adaar nodded. “Yes, though not really from the man himself. He simply said I was a mistake. Mind you, from what little we gleaned at the Temple, he’s probably right. It did sort of seem like I walked into something.”

Solas glanced over at Fenris. “Have you been told of what happened at the Temple?”

“Yes.” Fenris jerked his chin towards Adaar. “Kaaras told me.” He got a very large beaming smile for the use of the Herald’s first name and chuckled in return. “Such simple pleasures.”

“Do you have any idea how seldom I hear my name these days?” Adaar said with a silly grin. “I’m beginning to think my name actually _is_ Herald.” He sobered. “Anyway, when we were in the future, we found some documents that indicated that Alexius was trying to go back to before I… did whatever it was I did to get this mark and stop me. Only he couldn’t. He could never go back to before that happened.”

“Curious,” Solas said thoughtfully. “So what happened was some sort of key point in time?”

“It looks like it.” Adaar frowned. “It also looked like this Elder One wasn’t inclined to accept any of Alexius’ explanations. Not that it seemed to matter much. The world was in pretty sorry shape.”

“What had become of the Inquisition?” Fenris asked.

Adaar looked at him askance. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Might as well know the worst,” Fenris said with a shrug.

Adaar grumbled. “Well, admittedly I don’t know much. Cassandra and Varric were being held prisoner and had been infected with red lyrium. That was bad enough but Leliana had been… I don’t know. There were some indication they were deliberately Blighting people and for some reason Leliana was resistant to it. As for everyone else, I don’t know. We did find a journal that said that Ferelden had staged three sieges on Redcliffe castle before finally succumbing to the demons and the rest of the Elder One’s army. I’m assuming the Inquisition would have been involved in that.”

“Grim,” Solas said, sounding rather perturbed.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Adaar replied. He drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. “But not what I wanted to talk about with you, Fenris. Cullen wanted to know if you’d be willing to train his troops on a more formal basis. When you aren’t out with me anyway.”

Fenris nodded. Cullen had spoken to him about the matter the previous day and all he’d had to say was that if the Herald had no objection, he wouldn’t either.

“He mentioned it. I have no objection.”

Adaar’s smile was sharp. “Good. Might teach a few of them to stop throwing around obnoxious terms so freely. I’d imagine you dislike ‘knife ear’ as much as I do ‘ox man’.”

“I can think of worse things to be called but no, I don’t much like it,” Fenris said with a sneer directed at those soldiers.

“Well, have at them with my blessing if you need it,” Adaar said. “Between you and Bull, I think Cullen’s troops are going to learn some much needed lessons in humility.”

Fenris chuckled. “I suspect that is the Commander’s aim.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked him,” Adaar said then he got to his feet. “Alright. I’m going to attempt to sleep and hope for no nightmares. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Fenris and Solas bid him goodnight and watched as he left.

“I think I’m glad I was not with them,” Fenris said after a moment.

“Why?”

“I do not think I would have cared to experience that.”

Solas nodded his understanding. “It would be unnerving.” He shook his head. “What are your plans for the rest of this evening?”

Fenris shrugged. “The tavern? Their wine is not completely undrinkable.”

Solas gave him a wry look. “Perhaps I can offer something better. Josephine was able to get her hands on some texts I think you will find interesting. I am willing to help you work through them.”

Fenris was a bit dubious about how interesting books could be over an evening watching Bull work at convincing everyone in the tavern he was harmless but Solas had a tendency to find things that did pique his interest. And the tavern and its swill would still be there tomorrow.

“Very well,” he said with a shrug.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas reminds Fenris that there are two other mages in the Inquisition. Fenris reluctantly agrees to meet them. It goes better than he expected.

Fenris wasn’t avoiding Dorian Pavus. He just had things to do that kept him away from the area of Haven where Pavus had settled in. That it also kept him away from Solas was… an unfortunate side effect and from the way Solas was approaching him with determination as he sat eating his breakfast in the Chantry refectory, it was a side effect that wasn’t going to be allowed to stand for much longer. Fenris sighed and waited for the elven mage to sit down opposite him.

“Solas.”

“It’s good to see you, Fenris. It’s been a while,” Solas replied dryly.

Fenris rolled his eyes. “It’s been four days.”

“Indeed.” Solas ate some of his porridge. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Not you,” Fenris said with a sigh. “Pavus. Who lurks near you.”

Solas arched an eyebrow. “He is not going to hurt you.”

Fenris gave a one-shouldered shrug and applied himself to his own breakfast for a moment in order to avoid answering the underlying question. When Solas showed no signs of changing the subject though, he sighed and grimaced.

“He is… everything I hate about Tevinter,” he admitted. “Or he represents it.”

“He is deeper than he acts,” Solas pointed out. “I have spoken to him a number of times over the last few days and I believe he is a scholar at heart. He certainly dislikes a great deal about his home country even as he loves it.” He looked thoughtful. “I suspect he hates those aspects because he loves his country.”

“What aspects?”

“The backstabbing, the blood magic, the general perfidy.” Solas looked amused. “Though you were right. The issue of slavery was so ingrained in him that it took some rather pointed statements to get through his head that it is wrong.” He chuckled. “Still, he is no fool and not inclined to ignore an injustice once he recognises it. He took those pointed statements on board and agreed with them.”

“You like him?”

Solas considered that as he ate. “I do. He frustrates me with many of his attitudes, especially towards spirits and the Fade, and he is ignorant about the true origins of much of his magic but he wants to learn. That is rare even among the intelligent. Far too many are content to rest on their laurels and never stretch their intellect again.” He smiled slightly. “It is also rather stimulating to speak of magic to him. His ability to grasp concepts then extrapolate on them is remarkable.” He paused then said very drolly, “And I will thank you not to tell him any of that. His ego does not need any more feeding.”

Fenris snorted. “Most Magisters think highly of themselves.”

“He, as he will tell you himself, is not a Magister. He is an Altus.”

Fenris grumbled and waved a hand. “He will become a Magister then, when his father passes. It is much the same.”

“Fenris,” Solas said with patient amusement. “You will have to get to know him, at least a little. Thus far, Adaar has been diplomatic and has not paired you with any mage other than me but you know that cannot last. You should talk to Vivienne and Dorian. At least a little. While they have their faults, I think they may surprise you.”

Fenris grumbled under his breath. He knew Solas was right and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been able to work with Merrill and Anders, albeit reluctantly. He couldn’t avoid Vivienne and Dorian forever. They were as much a part of Adaar’s Inner Circle as he was and he owed them at least a little of his time.

“Very well,” he said grouchily. “If it will make you happy.”

“I shall be delirious,” Solas said so dryly that he drew a small laugh from Fenris. 

The elven mage then turned the discussion to something a little lighter until they finished their meal. Once they were done, Fenris got to his feet and squared his shoulders. If he was going to beard the mages in their dens, he might as well get it over with.

He decided to approach Vivienne first, simply because she usually located herself within the Chantry itself. He found her in the main hall, tucked away at a desk to one side, reading a book on magic. She looked up when he approached and raised an eyebrow. She did not stand however, which he appreciated. She was taller than he was, especially in her chosen heeled boots, and he was uncomfortable with the idea of her looming over him.

“Solas has pointed out that I have been rude not to introduce myself properly,” he said reluctantly.

His choice of words drew a small, austere smile from the First Enchanter. “I have read the Tale of the Champion,” she said, her voice low and calm but a little aloof. “Assuming there is a basis of fact in Varric’s tales, I am of the opinion that it is not precisely rudeness that prompted your distance but honest wariness.”

Fenris knew he looked surprised from the way Vivienne smiled.

“I am no fool to think that some mages cannot be dangerous and cause untold damage to others in their arrogance,” she said in a far kinder tone. “I will not deny the depredations of some Templars but I will also not deny the actions of some mages either.”

“I see,” Fenris said, feeling a little nonplussed. He hadn’t expected to hear that from her.

She arched an eyebrow elegantly. “And given that you bear lyrium in those markings, I think your wariness around mages is entirely justified.” She held up one hand when he took a step backwards. “I have enough principles to only view those markings with the horror and anger they deserve but I have known some mages who would view them and you with avarice.” She turned ice cold at that moment. “I know who they are and they shall never touch you. Not while I live.”

“I…” Fenris scowled. “You are not what I expected.”

“You were acquainted with the criminal Anders,” Vivienne said archly. “So I am not surprised.” She softened a little. “Commander Cullen speaks highly of you. That is enough for me.”

“I… see,” Fenris said, feeling very nonplussed and more than a little off-balance. It made him want to run.

Vivienne seemed to realise this and she waved a hand at the books and papers in front of her. “Forgive me for being rude, Serah Fenris, but Sister Leliana wishes this information as soon as possible.”

Fenris took the out that had been offered to him and nodded to her once before hurrying off. He almost decided to put off speaking to Dorian but he wanted to just… sit near Solas and absorb some of his calm and that meant he really couldn’t justify _not_ speaking to Dorian. At least with Dorian he was fairly confident that Solas would come over if he thought he was needed.

He squared his shoulders as he rounded the cabin and looked at where Dorian was leaning against the wall of the apothecary with a book in his hands. The mage looked up idly when he realised someone was approaching and when he saw that it was Fenris, he straightened and tucked his book away with an expression on his face that Fenris couldn’t read.

“Fenris, is it not?” he said with a small bow. “I have been reliably informed that I may have been somewhat rude the last time we met.”

Fenris twitched slightly as he came to a halt just out of range of Dorian’s grasp. “You reacted how I expected.”

Dorian’s tiny smile was rather wintery. “Rudely. As we tend to treat slaves.”

Fenris felt even more skittish at that. “You are a noble.”

“Which is, as I was rather firmly informed by Solas, no excuse,” Dorian replied. He paused for a moment. “I also realised that I… have seen you before.”

Fenris actually appreciated the way Dorian worded it. They had not met after all. He had been on display and Dorian had seen him. That was the extent of it.

“You have. You were young.”

Now he could read Dorian’s expression. The mage looked unhappy and just a little disgusted.

“Old enough to know that what had been done to you was wrong. I should have said something.” He winced. “Which would have gone over marvellously with my father, I’m sure, but you know what they say… in for a penny, in for a Royal.”

Fenris snorted. “It wouldn’t have made a difference. The damage had been done.”

“Still…”

“Danarius wouldn’t have listened to a boy, no matter who his father was,” Fenris said with a roll of his eyes. “He barely listened to the acquaintances he actually respected.”

“I heard he died.”

Fenris’ smile was vicious. “He did. At my hand.”

“I doubt he appreciated the irony,” Dorian said dryly.

“He appeared to be regretting something at the end,” Fenris replied. “Possibly giving me these markings since I used them to kill him.”

Dorian actually looked amused at that then his expression very contemplative. “Ugh. I hate having to admit Solas is right but there’s no denying it.” He sighed. “Oh well, I suppose if I’m planning to do the impossible already, I might as well add one more thing to it.”

“What are you planning to do?” Fenris asked warily.

“Oh, just overturn large portions of Tevinter society to try and stop us from sliding into chaos and irrelevancy,” Dorian said lightly. “Nothing major.”

“And you intend to outlaw slavery?”

“Why not?” Dorian said whimsically. “As was pointed out to me, a country built on slavery isn’t a very stable country.”

“So we end up in alienages like in the south?”

Dorian shuddered. “That wouldn’t be any better. I saw a few alienages on my way here. Ghastly places.” He smirked. “If I’m going to upend society, I might as well go the whole way, don’t you think?”

Fenris considered him. “I would like to think you could succeed but…”

“Yes, but,” Dorian said sourly. “It’s a little hard to do anything here in the south and I am distinctly unwelcome in Tevinter.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware the Venatori were so widespread.”

“They’re not,” Dorian replied. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I suppose I should have said I am distinctly unwelcome by my family and it would not be wise for me to be anywhere near them right now.” He eyed Fenris speculatively then huffed. “I suppose you will understand where others would not but I would prefer you keep this to yourself.”

Fenris considered that. “As long as it does not endanger the Inquisition or anyone within it.”

Dorian waved a hand dismissively. “No, it only affects me. I… uh, prefer the company of men.”

Fenris blinked and then rolled his eyes. “So? No one will give a damn here.”

“I’m not sure I really believe that,” Dorian said with a level of unhappiness that seemed unusual.

Fenris eyed him for a long moment, trying to judge whether Dorian really meant that, then he shook his head.

“No one cares,” he said. “Or at least no one will care who you choose to take up with.”

Dorian looked rather wistful. “That seems like more of a dream than my plans for Tevinter.”

“You’ll see,” Fenris replied and he suddenly realised that he… didn’t hate Dorian. He wasn’t sure if he liked him but he definitely didn’t hate him. Unless… “Do you practice blood magic?”

Dorian flinched and Fenris immediately tensed. He relaxed almost immediately at the misery that flowed off Dorian for a moment before he dragged himself back under control.

“ _No_ ,” the mage almost spat then he waved a hand. “My apologies. That… was not directed at you. Blood magic is the resort of the weak mind. My father taught me that. _He_ might not believe that anymore but _I do_.”

There were all sorts of undercurrents there that Fenris decided he didn’t want to deal with. He wasn’t _friends_ with Dorian and wasn’t sure he wanted to be. He was satisfied that the man didn’t mean him any harm, wasn’t inclined towards blood magic and seemed to be trying to not see him as a slave. That was more than he could have hoped for.

Dorian seemed to realise at least part of that. “Have I passed your test then?”

“For now,” Fenris said dryly then he nodded to the mage as he brushed past him and headed over to Solas. He could feel Dorian’s gaze on his back but he ignored it as best as he could.

“They are not so bad as you thought?” Solas said with mild amusement as he approached.

“No,” Fenris replied sourly. “Though that doesn’t mean I like them.”

“I would never expect that,” Solas replied.

Fenris knew he was being teased but he ignored it. Instead he slumped down onto the wall near Solas and let his jangling nerves slowly settle.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven has fallen, Corypheus is back and Fenris doesn’t want to think about that. So he thinks about the fact that bare feet and snow don’t mix. At least until Solas gathers him up with the aim of sleep.

Fenris crouched by the side of the fire and cursed the timing of Corypheus’ attack on Haven as much as his own unusual lack of paranoia. He’d been barefoot when the attack had occurred and had not had time to find his boots. It hadn’t been a problem during the fight as he’d become adept at avoiding the red lyrium the Red Templars left behind but here in the depths of the Frostbacks even his well-calloused feet were suffering from the relentless cold. He found concentrating on that to be far better than thinking about the fact that Corypheus was alive and well. That was a subject that needed a better time and place than this one to contemplate.

At least Adaar had survived. The camp had been decidedly grim in the hours after they had evacuated Haven and those who had been with Adaar when he’d gone to confront Corypheus – himself, Cassandra and Varric – had been the grimmest of all. Turning to find the Herald was not behind them and there was a dragon between them had been a shock. Realising that they had no choice but to keep going, to get to the Chantry and get away with the others so that the arrow could be loosed to let Adaar know Haven was clear had been a wrench. Fenris had almost surprised himself with how he’d felt. He hadn’t felt anything like that when dealing with Hawke but then Adaar was only superficially like Hawke.

But Adaar had somehow survived and staggered back into camp, supported between Cullen and Cassandra. He’d woken a few hours ago and there had been a rousing rendition of one of the Chantry hymns, one he’d heard Sebastian singing from time to time. Adaar had disappeared somewhere with Solas and had returned full of purpose, corralling Cassandra, Josephine, Cullen and Leliana and poring over the map and making plans. Fenris wanted to care more about what they were doing but he was still caught in a cycle of cursing Corypheus and cringing about his achingly cold feet.

“Fenris.”

He gave a start when a hand came to rest on his shoulder and looked up into the solemn face of Solas.

“Come. The soldiers found the smaller tents and have started setting them. I claimed one for us.”

Fenris stared for a moment longer as his brain caught up with what had been said and he slowly straightened, feeling like most of him was frozen as well. He picked up his sword and carried it in one hand as he followed Solas through the camp. They passed by Adaar, who was deep in discussion with Cassandra and Cullen – Josephine and Leliana nowhere to be seen and presumably off carrying out tasks – and the Herald gave them a nod then shot a worried look at Solas. He didn’t see what kind of response Solas gave the Herald but he suspected it was about him.

The inside of the tent was barely warmer than the outside but there was a large bedroll set up on one side and on the other…

“You fetched my belongings?” he said as he stared down at the meagre pack that he’d had with him when he’d arrived at Haven. Beside it were his boots.

“Not I,” Solas said, plucking the sword from his hand and setting it aside. “Thank the Commander for that. He apparently had contingency plans for just about everything, including a sudden forced evacuation of Haven. He sent soldiers after all our belongings.”

Fenris nodded and started to work on his armour. Unfortunately his fingers were as numb as the rest of him and he growled under his breath as he fumbled with the straps and buckles. He gave a start when Solas all but materialised in front of him and gently pulled his hands away.

“You can ask for help,” the elven mage chided as he deftly unbuckled the armour and pulled the pieces off, stacking them neatly beside Fenris’ pack.

“Not in my experience,” Fenris said then he scowled and looked away. 

He was a little startled when gentle fingers brushed over his chin, carefully avoiding the brands, and turned his head back. Solas looked calm and there was not a hint of pity on his face.

“I don’t know what happened with Hawke nor do I expect you to tell me unless it is your wish but _I_ will always help if you ask,” the mage said soberly. 

He waited then until Fenris slowly nodded then his fingers brushed briefly over Fenris’ cheek before dropping to his shoulder.

“Come. You need some rest.”

Fenris didn’t feel inclined to complain and instead crawled into the bedroll. He wasn’t surprised when Solas climbed in behind him and pulled the blankets over both of them. A wave of the mage’s hand doused the lantern in the tent and then Solas went still. He was not touching Fenris and yet he was almost hyperaware of the mage. He turned over and saw that the light penetrating the tent fabric was just enough to allow him to see Solas’ raised eyebrow.

“Fenris?”

Fenris gave a minute shake of his head and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. It was cold though and even though he could feel Solas’ body heat, it wasn’t reaching him and he found himself shivering. There was a time when he could have slept through that but those days were long behind him and some part of him was rebelling against even _trying_ to reclaim them.

“You are being ridiculous,” came Solas’ quiet voice. “I will not harm you.”

Fenris shifted and grumbled. “Turn over.”

Solas was still for a moment then he chuckled and did as he’d been asked. Fenris shifted closer then and curled up against the mage’s back. He hesitated for a moment then brought his arm over Solas’ waist.

“Does this satisfy your hesitation around mages?” Solas said, very definitely sounding amused.

Fenris was already feeling warmer and he growled under his breath even as he tucked his face down into the back of Solas’ neck.

“Yes.”

Solas chuckled again then he patted Fenris’ hand. “In case you were wondering, I do not object. If this is what you need to be comfortable, then this is what we shall do.”

“Why do you do that?” Fenris asked, almost growled really. He wasn’t angry, just confused.

“Do what?”

“Accommodate me.”

Solas was silent for a moment. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“No one has before.”

“Then they were fools.” Solas sighed. “But to give your question the serious answer it deserves… because I see the logic behind your reactions. Do I wish you were less wary and suspicious of mages? Yes but from what little you have told me and what I can extrapolate from that, it seems to me you have good reason for that wariness and suspicion. I will not invalidate what you have been subjected to at the hands of mages and the completely understandable trauma it has produced simply because it is not something I personally would do. Mages are not all of a piece. Some are good people. Some are not. The existence of one does not erase the existence of the other.”

Fenris snorted. “You should tell Hawke and Anders that. They thought I should automatically trust them just on their say-so.”

“I shall, if I ever meet them.” Solas patted his hand again. “Trust is earned, not given. I am willing to be patient and show that I am worthy of your trust.”

Fenris frowned. “Why? Why do you care if I trust you or not? Why do you spend so much time with me?”

Solas gave a quiet chuckle. “Because you are remarkable. In so many ways, you are not what I have come to expect of any elf. You align yourself not with the Dalish or the city elves but carve out a path for yourself. You freed yourself from slavery and fought for that continued freedom against everything, including your ingrained habits and instincts. Your experiences with slavery and magic could have turned you into a monster, yet you did not allow that to happen. I admire you greatly.”

Fenris shivered and if it hadn’t been so frigidly cold might even have climbed out of the bedroll. “I am not…”

“Extraordinary?” Solas said. “Yes, Fenris, you are.” He patted Fenris’ hand again. “But now is not the time for this conversation. You are tired from both the battle and the cold and we have a great deal of travelling to do in the weeks ahead. Get some sleep. We can talk about this again when we are safe.”

Fenris wanted to argue but if Solas was right about one thing, it was that he was tired. So for now, he was more than willing to let himself sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyhold is huge and everyone finds their little spot within it, including Fenris. He and Adaar have a chat about Crestwood, Hawke, Solas and Cassandra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the previous chapter was a little short, I thought I'd give you a second chapter as well. :D

Skyhold was a marvel but it was also confusing. From the outside, it seemed like a standard keep or stronghold, albeit one lost in the mountains. What purpose it had once had was lost to the mists of time. Fenris couldn’t imagine why anyone would build a stronghold here in the first place. Perhaps when the stronghold had been built, there had been towns and villages closer but for the Inquisition at least, its isolation was certainly helpful. 

But the deeper you went into the stronghold, the more confusing it got. Fenris was certain he’d seen Tevinter architecture in places as well as dwarven and even ancient elven architecture. The place made him… not uneasy precisely but certainly unsettled and he couldn’t put a finger on why. No one else seemed to be having a problem with it and he half suspected it was the remnants of Tevinter architecture that had him on edge. Maybe that was why he’d never truly settled in Kirkwall. Too many reminders of a place that had only bad memories for him.

He’d found a little spot to hide though, deep under the castle. An old study of some sort, riddled with cobwebs. Those had been easy enough to deal with and the books in the room were fascinating. He still read slowly and with great frustration, generally having to have a piece of paper and a pen beside him to scratch down the words he needed to ask someone about. It was annoying and frustrating but at least it improved his writing along with his reading. 

He didn’t think anyone knew he was down here, which was born out when the newly-named Inquisitor came wandering in one day, looking around curiously and then gave a start when Fenris cleared his throat.

“Maker’s balls, Fenris!” Adaar shook his head then laughed. “So this is where you’ve gotten to. I was wondering.”

Fenris shrugged a little awkwardly. “I can leave if you…”

Adaar held up a hand to stop him. “No, it’s all yours. Everyone seems to have claimed a space somewhere, so as far as I’m concerned, this is yours.”

Fenris relaxed and settled back down with his back to one of the bookshelves. “I would rather that…” He paused, unsure how to word what he wanted.

“No one knew?” Adaar said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Fenris replied. “I don’t mean to be rude but…”

Adaar chuckled. “ _You_ don’t mean to be rude? But you’re so good at it. I think you’re going to make Josephine cry one day. Or come after you with a knife. Or both.”

It was quite obviously a joke and a friendly one at that yet even Fenris had to admit that there was more than a little truth in it.

“Quite likely,” he said dryly.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Adaar said as he lowered himself to the ground opposite Fenris. “Maker knows it’s hard enough to get any privacy in this place. I’m not going to rob anyone of what little they find.”

“Thank you.” Fenris inclined his head. “What brings you here?”

“Just exploring now that I have the chance,” Adaar replied. “Though I _did_ need to speak to you at some point.”

“Oh?”

“Crestwood.” Adaar grimaced. “I wanted you to come. I was planning on taking you, Blackwall, Cole and Solas.”

Fenris nodded. “Of course.”

Adaar raised an eyebrow at him. “You are allowed to say no. If there’s something you need to do here or if you just want a break. I’m not going to get mad or anything.”

Fenris gave him a startled look. “I… was aware of that. I know Solas has declined on occasion. I just…” He shrugged. “I do not have any other purpose here other than as one of your companions.”

“You mean, other than whipping Cullen’s troops into shape,” Adaar replied. “He’s said a lot of very good things about you.”

Fenris ducked his head. He’d enjoyed the exercise once he’d gotten used to it. Cullen’s unstinting backing and his quick punishments to anyone who showed even the slightest disrespect had certainly helped but he’d quickly proven himself to the troops and there were few cases now of disrespect except in the newest recruits and that was usually swiftly dealt with by the older ones.

Adaar tapped his fingers against his knee. “Are you going to be okay with meeting Hawke again? That was my main worry. I know you avoided him or he avoided you when he was here.”

Fenris shook his head. “No, it’s… fine. We did not get along but he was… a friend. I would not have truly freed myself from Danarius and Hadriana without his aid. We just had some fundamental disagreements about mages and magic. Or a certain mage and a certain type of magic.”

“Alright,” Adaar said dubiously. “But just so you know, I’m pretty sure I can do this without Hawke but not without you.”

Fenris looked startled. “What?”

“I trust you.” Adaar sighed. “I’m about to be surrounded by Orlesians and who knows what else. The Inquisition has officially become a force to be reckoned with and is only going to grow. The people I trust are the ones who chose to fight beside me from the beginning, not the latecomers hitching their horse to the bandwagon.” He grinned. “Besides, who else am I going to have to make sarcastic comments and tell me bald truths that I might not like about magic and mages?”

“Most people don’t tend to like the latter,” Fenris said, feeling a bit shocked.

“I’m not most people,” Adaar replied. “Besides, I trust Solas and he likes you.” He grinned again, this time rather wickedly. “I mean he _likes_ you.”

Fenris surprised himself by actually blushing a little. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Adaar said cheerfully. “You damn well know what I mean. You’re a lot harder to read but I think you like him too.”

“He is a _mage_ ,” Fenris snapped.

“So am I and you like me.”

“Not in _that_ way.”

“Hah!” Adaar waggled a finger at him triumphantly. “So you _do_ like him!”

Fenris scowled at him. “Are you five?”

Adaar grinned. “Not last time I looked.” His expression softened. “What’s so wrong with liking him?”

Fenris shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about this but he was also aware that whatever it was between him and Solas was going to need to be addressed sooner or later. And his experience in this sort of thing was close to non-existent, unless you counted what had passed between him and Isabela. Which he didn’t really. He liked the pirate but that had been a confluence of mutual desires and, given she was a woman and not a mage, it hadn’t had the history and issues hanging over it that anything with Solas would bring.

“He’s a mage,” he said finally.

Adaar raised an eyebrow. “You’ve said that already.”

Fenris grimaced. “Danarius was a mage.”

“Danarius and Solas are hardly anything alike,” Adaar protested. “Are they?”

Fenris shook his head. “Not really, no. But getting that close to a _mage_ …” He shuddered. “I don’t know.”

Adaar’s expression narrowed for a moment and he eyed Fenris with a sort of dawning horror. “You _were_ just Danarius’ bodyguard, right?” he said slowly.

Fenris sighed. It was so much easier when he dealt with oblivious people than those who paid attention to the nuances as well as the obvious. He was a little surprised that Adaar had drawn the conclusions he so obviously had but then the man _was_ a mercenary. He’d probably seen some fairly ugly things in his career.

“Not always,” he said. “Sometimes he required… _other_ services of me. Whether I wanted to or not.”

“Fuck,” Adaar growled, suddenly radiating anger. “He’s dead, right?”

Fenris looked faintly amused and gratified at the anger on his behalf. “Very dead. I crushed his heart personally.”

“You know, when you say things like that, I get all warm and gooey inside,” Adaar said dryly.

That startled a bark of laughter out of Fenris and he gave the Vashoth mage an amused look. He sobered and shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not so long that it’s not a factor in regards to Solas,” Adaar pointed out. He cocked his head slightly. “I thought you trusted him.”

“I do,” Fenris said quickly then he stopped and frowned down at the book in his lap. “I… can’t explain it.”

Silence fell as Fenris continued to stare down at the book. When he finally looked up, it was to find Adaar watching him with compassion.

“You find it difficult to let people get that close,” he said quietly. “To let them that close, to give them your heart is to give them power over you and that frightens you half to death. Because you’ve had someone have complete power over you and it was horrible. So now you’re not sure if taking the risk is worth it because you escaped that life and you never want to go back to it.”

Fenris shuddered and stared at Adaar as the Vashoth mage articulated all the muddled and churned thoughts in his head. All he could do was nod mutely.

Adaar leaned forward. “Fenris, you’ve heard Solas talk about slavery as much as I have. You know he finds it utterly abhorrent. There are a lot of things I _don’t_ know about Solas but one thing I _do_ know is that he would rather cut off his own hand than enslave someone.”

Fenris swallowed and nodded slowly. He couldn’t deny the truth in that statement. Solas was adamant about his opinions on slavery, from the sort Fenris had suffered through to the Qun. He’d sometimes wondered if Solas realised how much he was giving away when he spoke on the subject. Because if there was one thing Fenris was convinced about after hearing Solas’ tone of voice when he spoke about slavery, it was that he had some experience with it. He didn’t think Solas himself had been enslaved but he had some sort of close, personal experience with it. And not from the perspective of the slave owner. He’d asked a question here and there but the elven mage was also very, _very_ adept at evading such questions.

“You think this is a risk worth taking.”

Adaar nodded. “I know he cares a hell of a lot about you. That’s pretty obvious. And I think you like him more than you’re willing to admit.” He chuckled softly. “I know it’s scary. I don’t have the kind of background you have and even I find it scary.”

Fenris smirked a little. “Cassandra is rather formidable.”

Adaar’s eyes widened in surprise then he slumped back against the wall and laughed. “Been that obvious, have I?”

Fenris paused then his smirk widened as he replied. “You make such lovely calf eyes at her.”

There was a moment of silence then Adaar burst out into loud, booming laughter. He waggled a finger at Fenris who couldn’t help chuckling as well given the infectious nature of Adaar’s laughter.

“I’ll give you that one,” Adaar said between giggles. “An ox man making calf eyes. Love it.” He gradually brought himself under control. “Do you think she’s noticed?”

Fenris snorted. “She has but I believe she’s chosen to ignore it.”

“Why?” Adaar asked plaintively.

“Because she doesn’t think you’re serious.” Fenris looked amused. “She reminds me a little of Aveline, though Aveline was more confident in making a move.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “A terrible move but a move nonetheless.”

“You think I should make a move?”

“Yes because she will not.”

Adaar sighed then he abruptly grinned very wickedly. “Tell you what. I’ll make a move if you do. Because Solas sure as hell isn’t going to make the first move.”

Fenris sighed. “If I say yes, will you go away?”

“Maybe,” Adaar said, still grinning widely.

“I will say something to him.”

Adaar got to his feet. He moved to grip Fenris’ shoulder. “Then I’ll say something to Cassandra.”

Fenris made a disgruntled noise as Adaar left the room. He waited until the door closed then set his book aside. If he was going to say something to Solas then he needed to think first.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crestwood! Why does Hawke always find some of the most dreary places to hide? Fenris and Hawke have a reunion and Fenris is amused by Solas.

Fenris had decided within about an hour of arriving that Crestwood was not his favourite place. It was wet, muddy and stank of rotting fish… and rotting flesh. It was an altogether unpleasant sort of place and they were only halfway to the village when he began wishing he’d left his boots on instead of taking them off and storing them at the camp. When they paused after speaking to the young elven woman, he lifted his feet and peered at the soles before lowering them back into the muck with a sigh.

“It is a decidedly dreary sort of place.”

Fenris looked around to find Solas with an expression which he was sure matched his own. A glance down showed him that Solas was in much the same situation he was and he snorted.

“Hawke always did find the most delightful places to drag us to,” he grumbled.

Solas looked amused. “It seems to be the nature of Ferelden to be wet and muddy.”

Fenris grunted again. “Cullen might take umbrage at that.”

“Cullen would probably agree with us,” Solas countered as he came up to stand next to Fenris. He gave him a concerned look. “Are you well?”

Fenris shrugged one shoulder. “I’m fine. Just…” He grunted. “Hawke.”

“He will be pleased to see you, will he not?”

Fenris nodded and Solas cocked his head curiously.

“You think he will disapprove of you being part of the Inquisition?”

“I don’t care what he thinks about that. I make my own decisions.”

“Then what has you so out of sorts?”

Fenris grimaced. “Where Hawke goes, trouble follows.”

“We are neck deep in trouble already,” Solas said with a chuckle. “I’m not sure he could make it any worse.”

“You don’t know Hawke,” Fenris said dryly.

Solas placed a hand on his shoulder briefly. “Do not borrow trouble, Fenris. Everything will be fine.”

Fenris gave him such a jaundiced look that Solas laughed.

“I _hope_ everything will be fine,” he amended his statement.

Thoughts of Hawke rapidly became lost in the mess that was Crestwood. Between storming the keep and descending into the tunnels under the region to close the rift that was causing so much trouble, Fenris didn’t have much time to think about Hawke until they were heading towards the cave. He’d avoided seeing the man when he had been briefly in Skyhold and he didn’t know whether Varric had told Hawke that he had joined the Inquisition. 

“Inquisitor! Glad you could make it. I just got here myself.”

Fenris drew in a breath at the familiar voice and looked past Adaar to see that Hawke hadn’t changed much. He looked a little thinner and more worried but as always Hawke was Hawke. As he watched, Hawke glanced over the motley group behind the Inquisitor and he blinked when his eyes met Fenris’.

“Fenris!” He stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “What are you doing here?”

Fenris reached out and gripped Hawke’s hand. “I joined the Inquisition.”

Hawke’s eyebrows flew up. “Really?”

“I asked. He said yes,” Adaar said, coming round to stand nearby. He grinned at Fenris. “Who else was I going to find to keep me well informed as to the perfidies of mages?”

Fenris snorted and there were chuckles from the others. Hawke looked surprised and glanced between Fenris and Adaar. He also looked faintly discomforted and put a fraction more distance between himself and Fenris, as though it had been a reminder of the things they’d disagreed on.

“He’s always been good at that,” Hawke said wryly. He chewed on his lip for a moment then gave Fenris a candid look. “I stopped, you know. With the… magic you didn’t like. You were right. It was… uh, very seductive. Found myself thinking things that would have had Carver, Bethany and Mother walloping me over the head with large, heavy objects. Seemed like a good idea to just… not do that anymore.”

“For how long?” Fenris said sourly.

Hawke’s smile was very wry. “It’s been a couple of months now and I haven’t had a problem.” He sighed. “You were right. I probably shouldn’t have started in the first place.” He shook his head. “I don’t think Kirkwall was a good place for thinking clearly. Anyway! Stroud’s waiting inside.”

Adaar gave Fenris a worried look then got down to business. “We ran into some Wardens out near Crestwood. They were searching for him.”

Hawke’s expression was sombre as he led them down the tunnel. “I saw them. They’re good people but they’ve been led astray.”

“By whom?”

Hawke gestured towards the door. “You’ll find out. Stroud’s the better person to explain it.”

The meeting was a grim as Fenris expected, though somehow he wasn’t really all that surprised to find that a _mage_ was leading the Wardens down a dangerous path. As Adaar asked a few questions of the Warden, Fenris wandered over to the maps on the table. 

“How are you, Fenris?” Hawke asked in a low voice, having followed him over.

“I am well.”

“The Inquisition agrees with you then?”

“It is… interesting.” Fenris looked amused. “Any organisation lead by a Vashoth mage would be interesting.”

“I didn’t know you were there when I stopped in,” Hawke said with a frown. “Varric didn’t say a word.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Varric is a mother hen and probably decided not to undermine either of us by risking us having an argument in the main hall.”

Hawke chuckled. “We did have some good arguments, didn’t we?” He paused. “You know I always respected your point of view, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Fenris looked over the map of the Western Approach and didn’t look up until Hawke cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Um, who’s the elf that’s glaring holes into me?”

Fenris looked in the direction Hawke indicated and saw that Solas was indeed eying Hawke intently. He shifted his gaze to Fenris when he realised he was looking and Fenris raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Solas’ lips thinned then he walked away to join Cole. Fenris snorted with amusement and went back to the map. He hadn’t exactly made any move on Solas as yet but he was aware he had probably been sending some… interesting signals to the man.

“Solas,” he said calmly. “One of the Inquisition’s mages.”

He could feel the weight of Hawke’s gaze on his back. “So why is he glaring at me?”

“I have no idea,” Fenris said dryly. 

“He keeps watching you.”

“I know. He likes me.”

He smirked at the way Hawke went silent at that.

“He… likes you. As in _likes_ you?”

“Yes, Hawke,” Fenris said patiently.

“And you’re… okay with that?”

Fenris turned his head just enough to raise an eyebrow at Hawke. “Yes.”

“So you’re… together?”

Fenris straightened and shifted his sword to a more comfortable position. “I didn’t say that.”

Hawke looked very baffled and Fenris approved of that. “Beeeee-cause he’s a mage?” Hawke ventured hesitantly.

“I didn’t say that either.” Fenris paused. “Though that is a factor.” He shrugged. “We haven’t spoken about it yet.”

“But you intend to.”

Fenris looked over at Solas, who was having a low-voiced conversation with Cole. The spirit boy was glancing at him from time to time as he murmured things to Solas and whatever he was saying seemed to be taking some of the tension out of Solas’ shoulders. Fenris was tempted to scowl. He didn’t like when Cole went dipping into his mind even though Solas had explained that Cole couldn’t help it. It was simply part of who he was – pain and uncertainty and such things called to him and he couldn’t _not_ hear them. He couldn’t deny that he bore a healthy share of pain and uncertainty.

“Yes,” he said after a moment of consideration.

“Huh,” Hawke said thoughtfully. “I would have thought you would steer well clear of mages.”

“There are mages and then there are mages,” Fenris replied.

Hawke winced. “Ouch. I suppose I deserved that one.”

Fenris gave him a startled look. “It was not meant that way. Solas is simply… different. There are things that he does which make me uneasy but he respects my opinions about magic and understands why I have them.”

“Well then, I hope it works out,” Hawke said then when Fenris arched an eyebrow at him, he continued, “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Fenris. You spent so much of the time in Kirkwall looking over your shoulder and shying away from everyone. I know I can be a bit overbearing sometimes but all I ever wanted was for you to be happy in and of yourself.”

“I… thank you,” Fenris said quietly.

“Fenris. Hawke,” Solas said with a nod as he came over to join them. “The Inquisitor is ready to leave.”

They joined Adaar and Cole and made their way out of the cave. At the entrance, Hawke stretched and looked around.

“I’m going to stay with Stroud, Inquisitor, and join him in scouting the Western Approach. I’ll make sure we send regular reports about what we find.”

Adaar nodded. “Good. I’d imagine we’ll be seeing both of you again as soon as we get ourselves sorted.”

Hawke nodded and headed back into the cave. Adaar lead the way down the hill towards the rift in the distance and Solas fell into step beside Fenris.

“Are you alright, da’len?”

Fenris’ lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’m fine. Hawke was just… being Hawke. Fussing and worrying. He is as much of a mother hen as Varric is.”

Solas chuckled. “It is rather incongruous from both of them.” He cocked his head slightly. “You are pleased that Hawke has ceased using blood magic?”

Fenris considered that. “Yes. As long as he keeps to his word.” He grimaced. “He is a good man and I disliked seeing him succumb to taking the… the easy path to power. The dangerously easy path.”

Solas nodded. “That is understandable.”

“I thought you liked blood magic,” Fenris said dryly.

Solas gave him an admonishing look. “I said that I had studied it, not that I liked it or used it.”

Fenris waved a hand in apology and then they were close enough to the rift for it to activate. He drew his sword and ran towards the first of the demons summoned from the rift, feeling the hum and buzz of the barrier that was thrown over him as he charged forward and happy to lose himself in the cut and thrust of battle and leave the complications of Hawke behind him for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your knickers, everyone! The road gets a little bumpy in the next chapter. Mwahahaha!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning from the Western Approach brings about a change in the relationship between Fenris and Solas. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go well.

Their return from the Western Approach and the confirmation that the trouble within the Wardens came from another Magister caused a flurry of activity and Fenris quickly retreated down to his little study. He felt it was the better course of action than to let his anger and frustration about the Magister cause his quick tongue to give offence to people Adaar actually needed on side. Not that the nobles who flocked to Skyhold were interested in talking to him very much. In fact, he tended to get wary glances as though he was some kind of wild animal. He’d be amused if it weren’t so annoying.

He’d been down there about an hour when he heard the door open and he was immediately wary. Adaar had been whisked away into a War Room meeting and it was far too early for him to have emerged from that. The footsteps certainly weren’t heavy enough either; in fact, he could barely hear them at all.

“Fenris?”

Fenris’ eyebrows went up at the sound of Solas’ quiet voice and he leaned forward far enough to peer around the bookcase.

“Here.”

Solas smiled at him and sat down beside him. “I had wondered where you disappeared to. The Inquisitor suggested I look here.”

Fenris shrugged slightly. “I had meant to tell you. Only Adaar knows, I think.”

“I suspect Leliana also knows,” Solas said with a chuckle.

Fenris grunted. That news didn’t surprise him much. He leaned back against the bookshelf and scrunched his toes against the cool stone of the floor.

“Why are you here?”

He saw out of the corner of his eyes how Solas went very still then he heard him sigh.

“Forgive me,” the mage said quietly. “I was not aware my presence would be unwelcome.”

Solas made to get up and Fenris clamped a hand around his wrist. He grimaced and twitched a little. He hated having to _talk_ about things. He’d never been good at it.

“You’re not. Unwelcome, that is. I’m just…” He grimaced then sighed. “Poor company at the moment.”

“Because of Erimond,” Solas said.

Fenris clenched his teeth and nodded. “He… reminds me far too much of Danarius.”

“Ah,” Solas said with understanding and Fenris only realised he still had his hand clamped around the other elf’s wrist when Solas placed a hand over it. “I doubt anyone would truly object if you crushed his heart in his chest.”

Fenris looked over at Solas and saw the understanding and sly amusement in his eyes. Solas was always confusing. He affected an air of aloof disdain for the petty concerns of normal people and then made bloodthirsty comments like the one he just had. It often made Fenris feel like the mage was two people. And if he was honest, Fenris liked the man who smirked at the idea of an evil Magister dying far better than the aloof mage, watching them all with distant amusement. In hindsight, that was the sole reason he could find for what he did next.

He leaned over and, before he could think better of it, pressed his lips against Solas’. The mage went still then abruptly surged forward, one hand tangling in Fenris’ hair as he all but claimed his mouth. Fenris matched the Solas’ passion, fighting for dominance in the kiss and smirking against his lips when his actions drew a low sound of want from the mage.

When they finally parted, Solas’ eyes were dark with lust and Fenris shivered a little at the predatory look in them. Isabela had given him some fairly predatory looks during their occasional dalliances but they were nothing compared to this. Hers had been full of laughter and teasing, as was her wont, but Solas’ were far deeper and darker. He liked the difference and he was a bit surprised about that.

“That was… unexpected,” Solas said, brushing his fingers along Fenris’ cheek. “Welcome and wanted but unexpected.”

Fenris grumbled. “We’ve been dancing around this for weeks.”

“Yes,” Solas said with a wry smile. “But I had not expected you to act on it. I had thought perhaps that my being a mage was too great a hurdle to overcome.”

“I… it wasn’t…” Fenris shook his head and gave a huff. “That was… an issue.”

“What has changed?”

“Seeing Erimond,” Fenris said slowly as the realisation came to him. “Seeing his similarities to Danarius and realising you… are nothing like that.”

Solas smiled sadly. “I have my faults, Fenris.”

“Don’t we all,” Fenris replied with a snort. “I meant that you would never use your magic against me like Danarius did.”

“ _Never_ ,” Solas said fervently. He cupped Fenris’ cheek with one slender hand. “No one deserves to be a slave, least of all you. I would ask how you managed to bear it but…” His smile was pained. “I understand how. And why.”

“One day you will explain to me what you mean by those comments,” Fenris said, brushing his fingers along the pinnae of Solas’ ears and smirking at the noise he got for that.

“One day I will.”

It sounded less like a promise and more like the gentle rumble that presaged a thunderstorm but Fenris didn’t have time to think about it. Solas had pulled him into another one of those predatory, all-consuming kisses and all thoughts disappeared out of his mind in favour of climbing into Solas’ lap to return the kiss.

He groaned into the kiss and when he pulled away to catch his breath, Solas shifted his attention to his neck. He tilted his head back, inviting more, then his breath caught when Solas sucked on the lines of lyrium that ran down his neck. Isabela had done something similar but it had never felt like _this_ and it took a moment for Fenris to realise that Solas’ magic was reacting unconsciously with the lyrium, sending pure sensation flooding down the white lines.

He gasped, unable to determine at that moment whether the sensation was pleasure or pain or something else entirely, and he flinched backwards, closing his eyes against it all as his hands tightened on Solas’ shoulders. Solas’ mouth disappeared in an instant and he felt the mage’s hands running soothingly over his face and into his hair.

“Vhenan? Are you well? What have I done that distresses you?”

Fenris drew in a deep breath as the unexpected sensation slowly faded. He let the breath out slowly and opened his eyes to find Solas watching him with open concern.

“Your, uh…” He licked his lips. “Your magic reacted with the lyrium.”

Solas looked startled. “I did not…”

Fenris grimaced and interrupted him. “I _know_.”

“Did I hurt you?”

Fenris hesitated then shook his head. “No. It… wasn’t pain. I don’t…” He swallowed. “I don’t know what it was.”

“It came when I was touching your markings,” Solas said slowly.

Fenris nodded. “I don’t know why. You’ve touched them before.”

“Ah, but never when we are both rather… worked up,” Solas replied with a faint smile.

The corners of Fenris’ mouth twitched. “That is a point.”

“Do you wish to stop?”

Fenris stilled for a moment then he nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

Solas cradled his face in his hands. “Fenris, I am not angry. This was unexpected and if you need time to work out what you are feeling and what you want, I am willing to give it to you.” He paused for a moment. “Do you wish for me to leave?”

Fenris hesitated and then nodded again. “I… need time.”

Solas simply nodded. “Of course.” He smiled slightly. “Though… you will have to move first.”

Fenris blushed as he realised he was still straddling Solas’ lap and scrambled off. The mage stood and placed a hand gently on Fenris’ shoulder.

“Be easy, vhenan,” he murmured. “When you are ready, you know where I am.”

Solas walked quietly out of the room and when Fenris heard the door close, he shifted around to sit on the floor behind the table, knowing he’d be completely out of sight there. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his forehead on them. He wasn’t sure he deserved Solas’ consideration but he was grateful for it nonetheless. To say he was unsettled by what had happened was an understatement and he wished he had someone he could speak to.

He thought for a moment about going to Varric but… Varric was a good friend and he valued him but this wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking about with the dwarf. He considered Adaar but the Inquisitor had more than enough on his shoulders. He didn’t need Fenris’ problems added to them, especially since Fenris suspected he was magnifying this entirely out of proportion. For a moment, he wished that Isabela was here. The pirate might joke and tease and refuse to take anything seriously in public but he’d found that she could and would be very serious in private. Not all of their nights together had been spent between the sheets. Sometimes they’d simply spent hours talking over several bottles of Danarius’ very good wine.

He let out a shaky breath and rubbed his forehead, willing himself to calm down. What had he felt when Solas had kissed his markings? It wasn’t pain. He hadn’t lied about that. It hadn’t hurt. He couldn’t say it was pleasure either, though he suspected that it might have turned that way if he’d allowed things to continue. If he’d told Solas and allowed him to keep going.

He’d felt pain when Danarius touched and used the markings to draw power from the lyrium. Sometimes it had been sheer agony, sometimes it had been a powerful ache but there had never been anything other than pain. He’d sometimes suspected it was deliberate. On the worst days, he could have sworn he’d seen a malicious glint in Danarius’ eyes as he drew power from the markings. He’d always thought he was imagining things but after today he was more inclined to think he’d been right.

If he’d allowed Solas to continue, could the mage have turned that strange sensation of power, of magic, flooding through his markings to pleasure? He suspected the answer was yes and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. His first thought was that it was manipulation but was that the case when he gave consent? If he actually _wanted_ it? Which led to the question of whether he _did_ want it.

The idea of giving a mage that sort of power over him, even the power of causing him pleasure, giving him something he’d enjoy, terrified the life out of him. He’d fought so hard for his freedom, struggled with it for years, that the idea of giving up even the tiniest part of it made him rail against it with feverish abandon. If he allowed a mage to have _this_ kind of power over him, what would he allow next? How long would it take before he was wearing the collar and chains again?

He made a low sound of anguish and frustration and beat a fist against the stone floor. Why was nothing ever easy for him? Why did he have to fight for _everything_ in his life? He was tired of it. Tired of having to struggle, tired of feeling so much fear all the time.

He gave a moment of thought to going to the practise grounds and taking his frustrations out on the practise dummies. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had arisen. In his current state of mind, he knew how he’d fight. If he simply practised against the pells, he’d likely break them. If he fought against the soldiers, he’d _definitely_ break _them_. That would bring attention to him that he didn’t want because it would come either from the Inquisitor, who had enough to deal with, or the Iron Bull. And he was in no mood to have a Ben Hassrath crawling around in his head.

He pushed himself to his feet and stormed out of the room. He took a long convoluted route through the stronghold, avoiding Solas’ chamber, until he reached Leliana’s rookery. He planted himself in front of her desk and she looked up at him with a bland expression. He didn’t know what he looked like but she didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Give me a task,” he demanded. “Away from here. Give me someone to kill.”

To her credit, Leliana didn’t bat an eyelid or try to question him or protest. Instead she pushed a few pieces of paper aside and picked up a thin folder. She held it out to him.

“There are rumours of slavers operating out of Amaranthine, which I know the Warden Commander and King Alistair would be very unhappy about. I will inform the Inquisitor as to where you have gone. He will understand.”

Fenris nodded and took the folder. Leliana said nothing more and simply turned back to her work. Fenris turned and headed for the door. He paused before opening it and murmured, “Thank you.”

He saw Leliana nod then hurried out to gather his belongings. He didn’t see the Spymaster jot down a quick note and send it off out of Skyhold with a raven before sending a second note off with one of her runners to someone within Skyhold.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris mopes and broods in Amaranthine. At least until an old friend arrives on the scene.

Amaranthine wasn’t the biggest town Fenris had ever been to but it was big enough. Big enough to get lost in and big enough to make the task Leliana had given him be a challenge. Big enough to give him plenty of distraction while still giving him time to think. Not that he was sure he _wanted_ to think but he knew he _needed_ to think.

Being slumped in a booth at the back of a dockside tavern waiting for one of his targets to come in was certainly a good place to think. There was something comfortingly familiar about the dingy tavern. Something about the smell, the sounds of the people around him and the appalling swill the barkeep was trying to pass off as ale. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost be back in the Hanged Man with Varric holding court at his usual table. There was Hawke’s bellowing laugh and Anders whining in the background. Aveline’s exasperated mutters and Merrill’s bright cheery inane questions to a flustered Sebastian. In a moment, he would hear Isabela say something inappropriate and…

“Hello, sweetcheeks. Fancy meeting you here.”

His eyes flew open in surprise. He sat up, catching his tankard of swill before it could spill, and looked up to see…

“Isabela?” he said, knowing he looked as startled as he sounded.

“The one and only,” Isabela said as she sat down with a thump and a sigh, placing her own tankard on the table in front of her.

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. He was willing to admit to the possibility of coincidences but not this one. “How did you know I was here?”

Isabela, to her credit, didn’t even bother trying to lie. “That creepy Sister Nightingale sent me a message.” She gestured idly. “I’ve been doing a bit of work here and there for the Inquisition after Varric vouched for them so I was in the area.”

“What did she say?” Fenris asked sullenly.

“Not much,” Isabela said with a tactical shrug that caused a number of interesting things to bounce. Her eyes narrowed when Fenris didn’t bat an eyelid. “Just that I should come to Amaranthine because a friend needed some help.”

“I don’t need help,” Fenris growled.

“Oh, sweetcheeks, I beg to differ.” Isabella grinned. “You haven’t looked at my boobs even once and I put them on display for you when I sat down and all.”

Fenris growled under his breath. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Well, _that_ can be sorted out quickly enough.”

Isabela waved a hand and in short order there were three bottles of wine and two goblets sitting on the table. Gold changed hands as Isabela murmured a few things to the barkeep and then they were left alone. Isabela immediately opened one of the bottles of wine, poured some into a goblet and pushed the cup towards Fenris.

“Get rid of that swill and try this. It’s good stuff.”

Fenris shoved his tankard away and picked up the goblet. He took a careful sip as Isabela’s taste in wine was sometimes atrocious but this time she was right. It was good.

“Hmph,” he said but his grouchiness just made Isabela laugh.

They demolished the first bottle and half the second in fairly short order and Fenris’ head was buzzing as he refilled his goblet. Isabela got up and joined him on his side of the booth, leaning into him heavily. He snorted and shifted so that he was leaning against the wall and one hand was free to keep drinking. The other one he wrapped around Isabela’s shoulders.

“Now that we’re both well on the way to sozzled, tell me all your troubles,” Isabela said. She tilted her head back and gave him a gamine grin when he didn’t immediately reply. “So, since you’re not staring at my boobs and you’ve ignored all my come ons so far… girl trouble or boy trouble? I know you like both.”

Fenris scowled at her and gave her a nudge that set her squawking. When she settled down again, he sighed. “His name is Solas.”

“Oooh, nice name. Very solid. Human, elf or otherwise?”

“Elf.”

“Warrior? Archer?” She tilted her head back again and he could see her expression was more serious. “Mage?”

He winced. “Mage.”

“An elven mage named Solas.” Isabela took a drink. “I’m guessing he’s nothing like that prick or you’d have killed him already.”

“He’s… different.”

“ _And_ he’s nothing like Hawke, Anders or Merrill or you’d have run a mile,” Isabela said shrewdly.

Fenris scowled. “Is this going somewhere?”

Isabela sat up and raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know. Is it?”

Fenris glared at her then he drained the contents of his goblet. Refilling it finished off the second bottle and he grabbed the third. “Not here,” he said flatly. “I’m not doing this out here.”

Isabela nodded and climbed out of the booth. He snorted when she gave him an extra wiggle of her arse and set the bottle down just long enough to smack said arse. Isabela brayed with laughter and winked at him over her shoulder then sashayed over to the barkeep. More coins changed hands and the barkeep handed over a key. They headed upstairs and were soon ensconced in one of the dingy rooms. Isabela immediately sprawled on the bed, offering him a rather good view of her smalls, and he slouched into the only chair in the room. They both drank in silence for a while then Isabela sat up a little.

“So how has this elven mage called Solas got your knickers in a twist?” She paused and grinned at him. “Also… green?”

Fenris rolled his eyes at her and she laughed.

“Oh, come on, sweetcheeks.” She looked him up and down, clearly admiring the shirt and breeches he was wearing instead of his usual armour. The armour had been too distinctive to wear for tonight’s work. “This is a new look for you. I have to assume that this time you actually _are_ wearing smalls.”

He rolled his eyes again then said, “Not green.” He ignored her grin then sighed. “He… when he touched my markings, something happened.”

Isabela immediately sobered. She’d been there on a few bad days when his markings ached and left him curled up in pain. It didn’t happen often these days, usually only after battles where a great deal of magic had been used, but it had occurred enough that she’d seen it more than once. She’d done what she could, usually just curling up around him and telling him tales of her adventures to try and distract him.

“He made them hurt? Are you sure he’s not like that prick?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “No, they didn’t hurt. I… don’t know how to describe it. His magic… it reacted to the markings. Or the other way around. It felt… I don’t know.”

“Good?”

Fenris hesitated before shaking his head. “Not exactly but… I think it could have if I’d let it go on.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Fenris shuddered and curled in on himself a little. Isabela was off the bed in a flash. She crouched down in front of him, her hands a warm anchor on his knees.

“Fenris? Sweetcheeks?”

Fenris managed a wan smile. “I’m fine.”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure, and I’m the queen of Antiva.”

She plucked the goblet that was hanging limply from his hand and placed it on the table. She then took his hands and pulled him up and over to the bed where she deftly stripped them both naked. It wasn’t long before they were curled up together under the blankets and Fenris sighed and felt himself relax for the first time since he’d left Skyhold. There was nothing sexual about the way they were entwined together. Sensual, yes, Isabela was a naturally sensual person, it came to her as easy as breathing. But it was comfort and warmth and understanding and protection that were on offer in this embrace, not sex, and he was willing to accept all of it as he nestled against her warm skin.

“So what was it about all of this that’s set you off?” Isabela asked, her voice soft and low.

It was easier to talk like this, with them both naked and vulnerable, no armour, metaphorical or otherwise, between them.

“It’s magic,” he said with a shudder. “If it can make me feel… good, what else will it do?”

“Oh, sweetcheeks,” Isabela said with understanding. “I don’t know Solas but does he know about you? About your past?”

Fenris nodded and Isabela prompted him with an encouraging, “Well?”

“He loathes slavery of any kind. Hates it. Even more than me, if that’s possible.”

“Do you think he’d ever try to enslave you with this magic?”

Fenris considered that then shook his head hesitantly. “No. I don’t think so but… how can I be sure?”

“Oh, _Fenris_.” Isabela cradled his face with her hands. “You can’t. You just have to decide whether you trust him enough to give this a try.”

Fenris closed his eyes. “And if it goes wrong?”

“Me and Hawke and the others will kill him,” she said promptly and with enough fervour that he actually believed her.

He nodded and tucked his head under her chin. She ran her hands through his hair soothingly and he felt sleepy for the first time in days.

“Go to sleep, sweetcheeks,” Isabela murmured. “Tomorrow we’ll track down these slavers you’re after and take care of them. Then you can go back to your elven mage and have some really great sex.”

Fenris gave a huff of laughter then relaxed until sleep claimed him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, we know what Fenris is up to. Now to find out what’s going on back in Skyhold with Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon regarding the murals in Solas' room and how he creates them comes from [this post by Sulahn Nasalin on tumblr](http://sulahnenasalin.tumblr.com/post/122544768009/lets-talk-solas-frescoes-solas-paintings-are).

Solas was painting. The process of creating the murals was intricate and required careful attention and was exactly what he needed right now to distract him from his thoughts. It was four days since he and Fenris had kissed and three days since he’d woken up to find that Fenris was gone, vanished in the early morning light to somewhere unknown. Leliana had refused to tell him where. All she would tell him was that Fenris had asked for a task, which she had given him, and that she had sent Cole after him.

He would be perturbed that Leliana knew him well enough to know that last bit would comfort him but he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about that right now. Right now he was painting and attempting to find some order in the maelstrom that was his thoughts.

He should not have kissed Fenris. With all that he had ahead of him, with all of his plans, he could not afford such entanglements. But… he could no more have _not_ kissed Fenris than he could stop the sun from rising in the morning. He had been gravitating towards Fenris since he had first met him. Fenris was… irresistible. His strength of mind, of character, was like catmint with Solas as the cat. He wanted to know Fenris in every way possible. Wanted to stand with him against the storms to come. Envisaged the two of them lounging in the pavilions of his youth as they ate and drank sweet wine and laughed and talked of anything and everything. It was fanciful, it was impossible and yet… he wanted it with all his being. He _yearned_ for it in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

It had been so _long_ since he had lost himself in another. Oh, he’d hardly been chaste or celibate over the years but those people had been passing fancies, brief moments of comfort and joy among the stresses and strains of the corruption of his kin and the pain of his people. When he thought about it, it had been long before Mythal had been slain that he had truly felt more for another than simple passing lust, since he had allowed himself to love. Mythal’s death… his anger, his grief… had stolen that from him.

He wasn’t sure if he loved Fenris or not but he knew that he could and would if he allowed himself. If Fenris allowed him to. It was a terrifying thought. He had plans, a path that he was determined to tread, but when he thought of Fenris, when he pictured that long-lost pavilion and their laughter and joy, those plans seemed cold and cruel in comparison. They _pained_ him in a way they never had before. Because if he was sure of one thing, it was that he could love Fenris or he could carry out his plans. He could not do both.

Of course, all of this was a moot point if Fenris turned away from him now. He had gone over what had happened but had come to the conclusion that the way his magic and the lyrium markings had pulled at each other and collided was accidental. It had not been caused by any subconscious wish on his part. He took some comfort in the fact that he had not hurt Fenris but it had clearly been unsettling, enough so that Fenris had felt the need to flee.

“So, what happened?”

It took all of his self-control not to start in any way at the unexpected voice. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door to the main hall open and close and that… was decidedly unusual.

He sighed as he continued painting. He couldn’t stop now without ruining the plaster and being forced to strip it from the wall and begin again. He didn’t bother to try and play dumb. Varric deserved more respect than that given his friendship with Fenris.

“It appears that my magic can… interact with his markings without my will being behind it. Fenris was deeply unsettled by this.”

There was a moment of silence. “Your magic can _what_?”

“I don’t know how to describe it better,” Solas replied. “I did not realise it was happening at the time and Fenris was so unsettled by it that I felt it better to respect his wishes when he asked to be left alone than to try and work out what had occurred.” He was silent for a moment. “When I woke the next morning, he was already gone.”

“Nightingale said she sent the kid after him.”

Solas nodded. “I am glad for that, though I know he finds Cole unnerving.”

Varric’s silence was weighty then he heard the sound of a chair being pulled out and the grunt as the dwarf sat down.

“She sent a message to Rivaini… Isabela… as well. She’s not far from where Fenris was going and they’re… friends.”

Solas winced at the brief hesitation on Varric’s part. He had his suspicions about what kind of friends Fenris and this Isabela were just from that pause alone but it was not for him to complain. Fenris was not his and even if they _were_ lovers, he still only had as much claim on the elven warrior as he was allowed.

“I see,” was all he could manage.

“He’ll talk to her,” Varric continued. “Something like this? He’ll talk to her. I can understand now why he didn’t come to me. What do I know about that sort of thing? But Rivaini… she’s been through a lot. I know they talked a lot back in Kirkwall. He trusted her in ways he wasn’t able to trust the rest of us.”

Solas nodded. “I am glad he has someone like that.”

He had the distinct impression that Varric’s words were directed as much at himself as they were at him. That Varric needed the reassurance as much as he did.

“Can I ask what you were doing?”

Solas sighed and concentrated on his painting for a moment. He should have expected that question. Varric was never one to leave well enough alone.

“We were… kissing,” he said in a tone that did not invite any further questions along those lines.

“Huh, so Broody finally decided to make a move,” Varric said after a moment of silence. “I’m assuming _he_ made the first move since I was pretty sure you wouldn’t.”

Solas greeted that with silence and inwardly cursed the incessant gossip that flowed around the stronghold. He was saved from having to make any reply by the sound of the door opening and closing. Heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of Adaar, who looked between them and raised an eyebrow.

“Huh, well, this is convenient,” he said. “Why have two of my Inner Circle suddenly disappeared? I’ve already got half an explanation from Leliana, now I want the rest of it.”

Solas turned back to his painting and he heard Varric clear his throat behind him.

“Uh, let’s go to the tavern and I’ll explain.”

“It can’t be done here?” Adaar asked sternly.

“I need a drink,” Varric replied.

Adaar obviously gave in because Solas heard the sounds of footsteps heading away and then the door opened and closed again, leaving an echoing silence in its wake. He would have to find a way to thank the dwarf later because he’d been in little mood to talk of this to Varric and he was even less inclined to talk about it to Adaar.

He knew that, for all of his internal protests, he was not going to turn Fenris away if he returned and wanted to continue what they had started. He _wanted_ him. He wanted whatever Fenris was willing to give him. He certainly did not want to turn him away and have the pain of watching him find someone else.

But was it fair to start this with a lie? _That_ was the other big question that was echoing through his mind. Fenris wasn’t Dalish but that didn’t mean he was right to keep his identity a secret from him. No doubt Fenris knew who Fen’Harel was, even if he didn’t worship the Creators. Did he dare to tell Fenris who he was?

He sighed and finished the last strokes of this section of his mural. He wasn’t achieving anything by chasing his tail in this manner. He couldn’t make _any_ decisions until Fenris returned and he knew what he wanted. All he could do for now was be patient and wait.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Isabella do some more talking and the other person Leliana sent a note to makes an appearance. It’s not received very well.

“Why are we sitting on a roof?”

Fenris shifted gingerly and grimaced as one foot slipped a little bit underneath him. The roof wasn’t overly steep but it had rained earlier in the evening and the slate was still a bit slippery. 

Isabela grinned. “Because the man you’re after is paranoid as all hell but he still doesn’t look up.”

Fenris grunted and managed to find a stable position. “And why are we sitting on the roof _now_ when it’s going to be at least two hours until he leaves the tavern?”

“Because it’ll give us a good opportunity to talk,” Isabela said brightly.

Fenris glared at her and she laughed at him. He wasn’t actually terribly surprised by her answer. When they’d woken up that morning, Isabela had bounded out of bed and after they’d dressed, she’d dragged him over half of Amaranthine to get information on the slavers he was after. He’d never for one moment believed that he’d evaded talking more about Solas and what was going on between them.

“You want to do that _now_?” he growled because she’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t.

“What better time?” She lounged on the roof and he envied her that ability. “Do you have anything better to do?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“There you go.” She cocked her head. “What was he doing when all this happened?”

Fenris sighed and looked out over the city. “We were… kissing. He was kissing the markings on my neck.”

“Oooh, nice,” Isabela said with approval then she frowned. “Now I know I did that to you and had no reaction.” She grinned and waggled here eyebrows at him. “Or at least not the kind of reaction you’re describing. I got a _different_ reaction. So, it’s because he’s a mage.”

Fenris nodded. “That is my assumption.”

“Were you enjoying yourself? I mean, was he any good?”

Fenris managed a small smile. “Yes. On both counts.”

“See, you’re much more fun than Hawke or Anders,” Isabela said cheerfully. “You actually tell me things.”

“We’ve had sex, Isabela,” Fenris said with a roll of his eyes. “More than once.”

It was Isabela’s turn to roll her eyes. “You know, I noticed that. I was there. I’m still not sure whether to be horrified at how thorough that prick was when he put those markings on you or just a teeny bit grateful because they’re so much fun to trace.”

Fenris blushed a little at that reminder of Isabela’s clever mouth and the uses she was willing to put it to.

“You can’t be both?” he said dryly.

“Eh.” She shrugged. “It’s so tiring to think such complex thoughts. I like to keep it simple.”

Fenris snorted at that blatant lie and the pirate grinned back at him. She was anything but simple and woe betide anyone who tried to underestimate her.

“You know,” she began thoughtfully, “now that he knows about this, he might be able to stop it from happening.”

Fenris blinked then stared at her, his mouth dropping open a little. She grinned at his reaction then began to laugh.

“You never thought about that, did you?”

Fenris shook his head. “I… no.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m… used to mages _using_ magic however they please, not to them being willing to _not_ use it.”

Isabela gave him a look of sympathetic amusement. “Do you think he’d be willing to do that? Not use it. Block it off.”

Fenris nodded without hesitation. “Yes, he would. He’s always been willing to… do what was necessary to make me comfortable.”

Isabela looked surprised and pleased. “Sounds like a good one. How about if he can make it pleasurable? How about if he can make it so you enjoy it? Get off from it?”

Fenris frowned and looked out over the town again. “I… don’t know.”

“Maybe try it?”

He looked over at her again. “What?”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Fenris, sweetcheeks, what was one of the first things I did when we started having sex?”

Fenris thought back to that time then he licked his lips. “You… asked what I was comfortable with. What I was willing to try and made me choose a… a word to use if I didn’t like it.”

“And I wasn’t even trying anything kinky, just ordinary normal sex,” she said. “But you’ve had a shit of a past and even with the ordinary stuff, you needed to find what you were comfortable with. Sex isn’t a one way street. It’s not one person enjoying themselves to the detriment of the other.”

Fenris nodded. “I know. I knew back then.”

“You knew _intellectually_ ,” Isabela countered. “In practise, you were a little shaky on the concept.”

Fenris shifted a little. He knew what she meant by that. He’d been too… compliant the first time they’d had sex, too willing to obey orders, to do what she wanted irrespective of whether or not he might enjoy it. She had not reacted well to that and it had prompted the discussion she was referring to. 

“ _Talk_ to him,” she continued. “Work out your limits and if you want to see if you like him using magic on the markings, try it. But make the agreement beforehand about how you’re going to let him know when to stop.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Don’t run away, you mean.”

She grinned. “Well, I wasn’t going to say that outright but yes. I won’t always be around to help you solve your problems.”

Fenris sighed but he would privately admit that running away probably wasn’t the most adult thing he’d ever done. 

“You haven’t been to Skyhold,” he grumbled. “Trying to do anything privately there is all but impossible.”

“Uh-uh.” Isabela waggled a finger at him. “That’s no excuse. Besides, imagine how he feels right now.”

Fenris winced. While he was fairly certain that Solas would forgive him before he even asked, he had probably been less than happy to wake up and find that Fenris had felt his only solution to what had happened was to run off.

“Yearning, hoping, waiting. He’ll always wait for you.”

Somehow Fenris managed to not fall off the roof in surprise and from the yelp and the sudden screech of obscenities, Isabela had just had much the same problem. Once he was certain he wasn’t going to end up smashed into the cobblestones two floors below, he turned a sulphurous glare on the young man who was sitting nearby.

“ _Cole_ ,” he snarled.

“ _What_ ,” Isabela added in her own growl, “is going on? Who the hell is _he_ and how the _hell_ did he get up here?”

Fenris continued to glare at Cole, who was now starting to look a little nervous and uncertain. “His name is Cole. He’s a spirit so he can do things like that.”

Isabela gave the boy a dubious look. “A spirit? Like Justice?”

“No.” Fenris felt his heart rate slowing and he shifted back to a more stable position on the roof. “According to Solas, he’s not possessing anyone.”

That answer didn’t seem to appease Isabela much and she still looked at Cole suspiciously.

“Right. So what’s he doing here?”

“Sister Leliana asked me to come,” Cole said earnestly. “She didn’t think Fenris should be alone and I can be there and not be there.”

Isabela’s eyes slid over to Fenris. “Did that make sense to you?”

Fenris nodded and scowled. “He does this thing where people forget him and don’t see him.”

“Right. Weird.”

Fenris was fairly sure that Leliana had chosen Cole less for his ability to disappear than because he was the one Solas would trust the most to watch over him. He didn’t know what to make of the spirit boy. He was nothing like Justice but he still made Fenris’ hair stand on end. He usually tried to avoid him.

Cole suddenly pointed down towards the street. “He’s coming. I made him think he should. He causes pain. He shouldn’t do that.”

The boy suddenly disappeared and Fenris looked over at Isabela. She was giving him a look that made him laugh and then she shook her head and grinned.

“Shall we, sweetcheeks?”

“It’s what we’re here for.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gets back to Skyhold in a much better frame of mind. Too bad Solas isn’t there! Oh well, he’ll just have to have a conversation with Vivienne instead and learn about some worrying news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, sorry. This was a bit later than I intended. I've been moved onto a large project at work and while the work is interesting and it's great for my career, getting used to the work load has been exhausting.
> 
> Also with this chapter, we have now caught up with everything I already had written so between that and my work, updates are going to be a little slower from now on.

Fenris’ return to Skyhold was something of an anti-climax. He’d had the dubious pleasure of Cole’s actual physical presence for most of the trip back but the boy had done his disappearing act late the previous evening and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since then. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not by that. He had however assumed that Cole had gone to report in to Solas that he hadn’t done anything drastic in Amaranthine and had half-expected to at least see the mage lurking somewhere around the lower courtyard. Instead all he got was Leliana and Cullen. He tried not to feel too disappointed.

“Welcome back, Fenris,” Cullen said as he stepped forward and nodded. “Adaar headed back to the Western Approach. He’s taken Varric and Solas with him but we expect them back in a couple of weeks.”

Fenris went very still then licked his lips. “Thank you, Commander.” 

He was pleased that he managed to say that in a level tone. All his fretting over what to do when he got back had just come to naught. Cullen seemed to realise that Fenris was not entirely happy with his news as he gripped his shoulder for a moment then left him with Leliana.

Leliana didn’t bother with any questions or expressions of sympathy or otherwise. “Come, Fenris. I’d like to hear your report.”

Fenris nodded and fell into step alongside her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye then as they climbed the stairs to the stronghold, he cleared his throat.

“Thank you. For contacting Isabela.”

Leliana smiled slightly. “You’re welcome. I’d been told she was a good friend to you in Kirkwall.”

Fenris nodded. “You sent Cole.”

“I did,” Leliana said with a chuckle. It distracted him as they passed through Solas’ empty chamber and headed for the stairs. “I didn’t think you really wanted company but with the mood you were in, I felt you needed someone to watch your back. Cole seemed the perfect compromise.”

Fenris grumbled under his breath until they reached the rookery then at Leliana’s gesture, he shucked his sword off and leaned it against the wall before slumping into the chair at her desk. He gave her his report and then answered the questions she had, causing her to chuckle at his and Isabela’s antics. Once she was satisfied, she dismissed him and returned to his room.

He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, unsure of what to do. He’d had some vague plans of speaking to Solas immediately but… that wasn’t exactly an option right now. He set his sword on the weapons rack and stripped off his armour. A bath and a change of clothes later, he made his way to the main hall of the stronghold with the vague thought of heading for the tavern and letting Bull get him drunk. Before he could head out though, he found himself being hailed. He turned to see the inimitable Madame Vivienne sailing towards him, nobles and servants scattering out of her way. 

He raised an eyebrow, wondering what she wanted with him. “First Enchanter.”

“I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private, Fenris?”

He hesitated for a moment then nodded. Vivienne gestured for him to join her and she led him up to her loft overlooking the main hall. He sat down gingerly in one of the chairs and waited expectantly.

“I regularly receive word from friends and colleagues in the Orlesian court,” she began, “and there are some alarming rumours currently running around regarding both Tevinter and the Qunari. As you have experience with both, I was hoping you might be able to assist me with some rebuttals.” She paused then continued delicately, “You are, of course, welcome to refuse, however the rumours are… not ones I would prefer to allow to linger given their misguided nature and if I can rebut them with facts, all the better.”

Fenris hesitated. “Wouldn’t Dorian or Bull be a better option?”

“I have spoken to Dorian already and he’s given me some information.” She paused again, looking rather regal. “However, I find myself reluctant to trust a Ben-Hassrath agent in this matter.” She gave him a serious look and lowered her voice. “The rumours are very… sympathetic towards both Tevinter and the Qun and shine the Inquisition in a negative light. I am looking for responses that… reverse that.”

Suddenly Fenris realised what she wanted and he smirked. “You want me to… dish the dirt as Varric might say.”

Vivienne smiled very approvingly at him. “I merely wish to ensure that people receive a balanced view on the matter.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow at her and settled a little more comfortably into the armchair. “What did you have in mind?”

She peppered him with questions and while they weren’t always very comfortable, he answered as best as he could. She seemed to always know when a question had struck _too_ close to the bone and would immediately dismiss it before he could summon an answer or a deflection. It made him wonder just how easy he was to read but then he also knew that those kinds of questions produced real physical reactions that he struggled to conceal even on his best days.

Finally she seemed to be done and she poured him a glass of wine while she made some final notes. He sipped at the wine and his eyebrows went up. The last time he’d had wine this good was when he’d been raiding Danarius’ cellar in Kirkwall. Though that had been a bit hit and miss. Danarius had never had particularly good taste in wine so the good stuff he’d had was more by chance than deliberate action.

“I’ve never met a mage who supported the Circles,” he said to deflect her from any questions about his reaction to the wine.

She set aside her notes and picked up her own glass of wine, taking a sip and savouring it as she considered his statement.

“It’s a little more complex than that, my dear,” she finally said. “Mages need to be trained and it is best if that training is as uniform as possible when it comes to the basics, which of course includes how to fend off demons in the Fade. That way, you know that every mage _knows_ those basics firmly and absolutely. Obviously every mage has their own interests and will go on to pursue their own research after successfully completing the basics but if everyone can be confident that mages know the fundamental tenets of their craft, it goes a long way to building confidence in mages as a whole.”

“And you can’t be confident of that with apostates,” Fenris said with a nod.

Vivienne gave him an approving look. “Precisely. We had apostates brought in to Montsimmard from time to time before the current troubles and while they were invariably very skilled, their education had been something of a hodge podge and they often lacked some basic knowledge that is normally taught to the youngest apprentices in the Circle.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Something we often did not discover until there was an _incident_. Thankfully we never had anyone get badly hurt and we were able to correct the mistakes they were making but it was a bit alarming to discover that apostates do not always seem to be educated in things we consider the basic building blocks of magic.”

Fenris considered that. “Mages in Tevinter receive a basic education, even if they aren’t going to become proper mages.”

Vivienne cocked her head slightly. “Why would a mage not become a ‘proper mage’?”

“Dorian would be able to explain it better,” Fenris replied with a shrug. “He’s the mage. But some mages aren’t very powerful. They have magic but not much of it. So they get a basic education so they can use what they have and aren’t in danger from demons.” He snorted. “Or aren’t in any more danger than any other mage. Then they’re allowed to go off and pursue whatever their interest is.” He arched an eyebrow at Vivienne. “You make those mages Tranquil here.”

Vivienne looked surprised then intently interesting. “Fascinating. I shall make the time to speak more on subject with Dorian. Do they not use the Rite of Tranquility at all in Tevinter? I had heard they did but I thought it was the same way we do.”

“Of course they do.” Fenris snorted again. “It’s a political tool. The ultimate win in the Game is to have your opponent or his son or daughter rendered Tranquil.”

“Barbaric,” Vivienne said with a sniff.

Fenris looked amused. “They’d say the same thing about southern Circles.”

Vivienne gave a rather disdainful harrumph then gestured towards the wine glass in Fenris’ hand. “I am pleased you appreciate the wine. There are so few here that do.”

“I’ll drink any wine,” Fenris admitted. “I drank my way through Danarius’ cellar in Kirkwall and sort of learned how to recognise good wine from that.”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. “An odd sort of revenge but I can’t fault it.”

Fenris considered that statement for a moment. “Less revenge than defiance. He was still alive. I still feared what might happen. Drinking wine I would never have been allowed to touch except to pour it for my _betters_ felt… good.”

Vivienne had given him a piercing look at the bitter tone in which he’d said ‘betters’ but she made no comment on that. “They say the best revenge is to live well.”

Fenris stared into the wine in his glass. “I am trying.”

“You had Solas, Varric and the Inquisitor in quite the state when you left.”

He gave a start and looked over to find her watching him serenely. Not that he entirely believed that expression was what she felt. He just wasn’t sure what she was after.

“I… needed some time away.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Fenris shook his head. “No, but thank you.” He was surprised to find he meant that. Today had gone a long way to alleviating some of his suspicions and worries about Vivienne. There was something about being treated with respect that did that.

Vivienne inclined her head slightly, accepting his decision without demur, then she looked amused. “I believe the Inquisitor’s sudden outing to the Western Approach and his choice of companions is due to some… tense moments between Solas and Varric.”

Fenris stared at her for a moment then he sighed and muttered a few Tevene imprecations under his breath. Vivienne chuckled and gave him a sympathetic look.

“I believe the Inquisitor felt that a week or two tramping through the sand and heat in the Western Approach might be sufficient to cool a few tempers.”

Now Fenris chuckled. “He may well be right,” he said wryly. “It is not the most pleasant place.”

“You are lucky to have such good friends.” She paused then continued delicately, “And perhaps more.”

Fenris’ amusement evaporated and he scowled. “What is it to you?”

Vivienne was unmoved by his reaction. “I do not intend to overstep nor do I intend any words of censure. I was simply offering an… objective ear, if you had need.” She paused again and he got the distinct impression that this discussion was suddenly no longer just about his romantic inclinations. “Not to mention informing you that your… preference has been noted.”

His eyes narrowed at that last bit. “Why does my preference matter?”

“You _are_ one of the companions of the Champion of Kirkwall,” Vivienne replied with one beautifully arched eyebrow. “Your presence at the Inquisitor’s side has been noted.”

“Noted,” he said flatly, sure that this was where Vivienne had been steering the conversation the whole time. “By whom?”

“The Orlesian court,” Vivienne replied. “I have had many letters asking questions about you. Some of those letters have included details that are _not_ in Varric’s book.”

He straightened suddenly and a cold frisson ran down his spine. “Are you the only one they’ve been writing to?”

She looked very approving of his quick grasp of her implications. “I believe some letters have gone north.”

“Venhedis,” he snarled. He had thought any danger from that area was over.

“Did Danarius have any relatives?” Vivienne asked and Fenris appreciated the shift from the delicate to the upfront.

He frowned. “There was a cousin he wrote to on occasion but I don’t know their name.”

She paused for a moment and sipped at her wine. “I fear I must touch on a delicate subject. How would those in Tevinter view your situation with Danarius’ death?”

Fenris closed his eyes and struggled to control the sudden wave of despair he felt welling up. “A slave is a slave until they are freed by their master or by the Magisterium.”

“And the death of the master does not count?”

“That’s… debatable,” Fenris replied as he opened his eyes again. “In general, no. All property is inherited by their next of kin. My situation is… more open to interpretation. I escaped and have remained free for many years. There is a law that states that I am free by default since my master was never able to reclaim me. I think ten years of freedom without reclamation is the timeline for that law. However, the reason he wasn’t able to reclaim me was because I killed him. There are some fairly punitive laws regarding slaves who injure or kill their owners.”

“So it is a matter of which law they choose to interpret as being relevant in this situation?”

Fenris nodded and his expression became sour and bitter. “I think I know which one they will choose.” He gestured towards his markings. “ _These_ make me valuable beyond all measure.”

Vivienne straightened. “They will simply have to change their minds,” she said, her tone impossibly regal and imperious.

He arched an eyebrow at her and she smiled majestically in reply.

“My dear Fenris, if you think that I or anyone else in the Inquisition will allow you to be considered anything other than the free man that you are then you are gravely mistaken.”

Fenris’ breath caught in his throat for a moment. It was as unequivocal a statement as he’d heard in a long time and yet he couldn’t help but doubt it a little.

“Magisters have significant resources,” he said. “The Inquisition may not be swayed but Orlais…”

Vivienne sniffed. “I will hear about any such moves long before they come to fruition and they shall be squashed.”

“Your sources are that good?”

“They are.” Vivienne was firm and solid in her conviction. “Ambassador Montilyet’s are just as good and now that Sister Nightingale has been informed, well, if they somehow manage to slip past either Josephine or myself, they shall not last long before Leliana puts an end to them.”

Fenris stared at her. Hawke had certainly protected him as best as he could, given his circumstances. Aveline, Varric and Isabela had also offered various forms of protection but there had been nothing as utterly comprehensive as what he now found himself afforded.

“I believe Leliana has also informed the Iron Bull,” Vivienne continued serenely in the face of his silence. “He apparently considers you a great friend, largely because of your ability to sit him on his backside when you spar.”

That drew an amused snort out of Fenris. The first time Bull had offered a challenge to spar with him, the Qunari had clearly expected a good fight and a bit of fun but to eventually win. He _hadn’t_ expected to be knocked to the ground so comprehensively within minutes of the bout starting. The Chargers, who had gathered to watch the moment they’d heard about what was going on, had brayed with laughter at their boss’ startled expression and then Bull himself had bellowed with laughter and demanded a rematch. Fenris had found himself stretched out on the dirt at the end of _that_ bout but in the best of three rematch, he’d once again sent Bull flying and after that he’d become a firm favourite with the Qunari and his Chargers.

Vivienne had been watching him and now she said, “Between Leliana’s agents and whatever resources the Iron Bull has, I’d imagine any relatives Danarius has in Tevinter might find themselves stepping very lightly and nervously.”

“They…” He broke off and shook his head. “They would do that? For me?”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. “You are one of the Inquisitor’s most trusted companions and friends. Of course they would.”

Fenris shuddered and swallow hard. It was difficult to believe sometimes that people would protect him just because it was the right thing to do. That they didn’t want anything in return and they weren’t looking to lull him into a false sense of security so that _they_ could benefit from him.

“I… thank you.”

Vivienne inclined her head. “No thanks are really necessary, Fenris. It is, after all, the right thing to do.”

Fenris was silent for a moment. “I have not had much experience with that.”

Vivienne softened and just for a moment he caught a glimpse of the very _human_ woman behind the Iron Lady. 

“That may be so,” she said with a sort of austere kindness. “But that was then and this is now. You are protected.”

It was a heady thought but somehow it didn’t make Fenris feel constricted or like he owed anybody anything. This wasn’t being done to extract a favour from him or to place him in debt to anyone. It was being done because it was, as Vivienne had said, the right thing to do. The same thing would be done for anyone here, of that he was certain.

He nodded slightly and took a drink of his wine. Something in his chest loosened and the fear that had all but consumed him since the mention of Orlesian contact with Tevinter slid away. He doubted it was gone completely, was sure it would surge back to choke at him from time to time, but the urge to run or to lash out in anger and frustration was no longer there. He was protected in a way he could bear. It was a… good feeling.

“What would you do with the Circles if the decision was yours?” he asked, making the decision that he could trust Vivienne, and was rewarded by her smile and the light that kindled in her eyes. And when she began to speak, he actually found himself interested in what she was saying.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and his party return from the Western Approach and Fenris and Solas have a chance to talk. It goes well before taking a slight curve to the left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small warning - there are some brief allusions to sexual abuse. They're very vague, implications rather than anything specific and just a couple of sentences, but I wanted to put the warning in anyway.

Fenris was perched on a remote section of the battlements when the Inquisitor returned from the Western Approach. He could see the barn from where he was and watched as Dennett and his stableboys rushed out to bring the party’s mounts back. He couldn’t see Adaar and the others from here but he made no move to leave his position. Partly because he’d just gotten comfortable and he was protected from the breeze and thus was nice and warm. Mostly though, he knew there’d be a lot of fussing around as reports were taken and people settled back into the stronghold. He’d waited two weeks, he could wait a little longer. He wanted Solas’ undivided attention for what he was sure was going to be a difficult conversation.

He finally moved when the sun shifted far enough to leave his little corner in the shadows and he made his way back inside and around to Solas’ chamber. He paused in the doorway and watched as the elven mage leafed through a book on the table with a frown on his face. The things he’d talked about with Isabela in Amaranthine ran through his mind and for once he was confident in what he wanted to do.

“What did you and Varric do to annoy the Inquisitor?” he asked.

Solas’ eyes flicked up instantly and he straightened with a small, slightly hesitant smile. “Fenris. I am pleased to see you.” He paused then sighed. “Varric and I merely rubbed each other the wrong way in our mutual concern. I fear we did so at a bad time as Adaar had been in meetings with Orlesian nobles all day.”

Fenris snickered at the mental image of the towering Vashoth mage glaring at the smaller and slighter elf and dwarf like a disappointed parent then he sobered. “I’m sorry I ran off.”

Solas took a few steps towards him, one hand partially outstretched. “Fenris, there is no need for an apology. If you needed time away, with a friend, to come to terms with what happened, I would never complain.”

“I should have at least left a note.”

Solas smiled slightly. “I’ll admit I would have preferred that. It would have set my mind at ease.”

Fenris shifted from foot to foot. “We should talk.”

“Would you object to doing so in my rooms?” Solas said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s fine.”

Solas gestured towards the door and they made their way in silence to the mage’s rooms. Fenris looked around with interest once inside. The rooms were not entirely what he was expecting. Some of it was – the books and notes and the various paraphernalia of a mage – but though the room was sparsely decorated and furnished, what was there was… very comfortable. There was also a surprising amount of wolf imagery and after a moment, he realised that he recognised the imagery. It was the six eyed wolf that represented the Dalish trickster god Fen’Harel. How strange to see it associated with Solas given his opinions about the Dalish.

“May I offer you something to drink?” Solas said, startling him out of his thoughts. “I have some wine.”

Fenris turned and nodded. “Yes, please.”

He sat down at the small table in the room as Solas poured wine into two goblets and looked at the papers on the desk. From the words he was able to pick out easily, they appeared to be about some sort of magical theory that Solas had been discussing with Dorian and Vivienne. The appearance of the First Enchanter’s name reminded him of the conversation they’d had on the day he’d arrived back.

“Vivienne said I might be under threat from Tevinter.”

Solas handed him a goblet and sat down opposite him. “Yes, she told Varric, Adaar and myself a few days before we left for the Western Approach. The swearing was impressive.” He paused thoughtfully. “And it may well be the cause for the tension between Varric and myself. We were both concerned but Vivienne seems to have it well in hand, along with Josephine and Leliana.” He cocked his head slightly as he looked at Fenris. “Are you concerned?”

Fenris sipped at the wine and blinked. It was a sweeter wine than he was used to but he liked it. “Yes. The law is… murky but the lyrium in my skin is too valuable for them to not try and reclaim me.”

“That shall not happen,” Solas said firmly and when Fenris looked at him, he once again saw that… _otherness_ that occasionally appeared in Solas’ eyes. Something darker and more feral than the face the mage normally showed. He supposed it might have scared some people but it just made him feel safe.

He nodded slightly and stared down into his wine. “So. I’m sorry I left.”

“Fenris,” Solas began.

“No. I shouldn’t have left like that.” Fenris sighed. “I should have talked to you. Isabela was pretty firm on that.”

“Isabela is your… friend from Kirkwall,” Solas said.

Fenris nodded. “She’s… I’ve always been able to talk to her.”

“I am glad you have someone like that.”

“We’ve been lovers,” Fenris continued. “In the past, that is. It’s never been a… a serious thing. Not like this.” He gestured between the two of them. “Just… when we needed it. And she… helped. I had a lot of ingrained habits when it came to sex and not really very good ones.”

He heard Solas’ indrawn breath and then Solas was reaching towards him across the table before he stopped and let his hand rest on the surface of the table.

“Fenris. Did Danarius…?”

“Use me?” Fenris said bitterly. “I was his _slave_. His property. His to do with as he wished. So, yes. He and Hadriana both.” Solas drew in another breath but Fenris waved him silent. “It was a long time ago and I know it was wrong. I was not… broken by it. Though I will admit to developing… survival tactics.” He shrugged. “Isabela didn’t much care for them being used with her and insisted that we talk things through so she knew what I wanted, I knew what she wanted and neither of us were taking advantage of the other.”

Solas was silent for a long moment then he swallowed and nodded. “She sounds like a very wise woman. I would like to meet her.”

Fenris’ mouth twitched into a half smile. “She wants to meet you as well. Anyway, she reminded me that instead of running away, I should have talked to you. About what I want and am comfortable with. About what you want and are comfortable with. What suits us both.”

This time when Solas reached for his hand, Fenris let him take it and smiled a little at the way Solas’ brushed his thumb over his knuckles.

“I have been considering what happened and I do believe I could make sure it doesn’t occur again,” Solas said. “I cannot be sure it will work until we try it but I will certainly do all I can to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

Fenris’ smile was wry. “I told her you’d do that. That’s when she decided she liked you. But I…” He licked his lips and gulped at his wine. “I’d also like to… try that again. With the magic.”

From the way Solas started and gripped his hand tighter for a moment, he knew he’d genuinely startled the mage.

“Are you sure?”

Fenris nodded. “I… I suspect you could make it feel… good. I’d like to at least try it and see whether I like it.”

Solas cocked his head curiously. “I’ll admit I had speculated I could do that but why do you believe it could be done?”

“Because it used to hurt when Danarius drew power from them and I think he did it deliberately,” Fenris replied. “I was never sure at the time and it wasn’t exactly something I was going to ask him about but his expression at times made me think he could have done it painlessly… or at least without actively _hurting_ me.”

“It is just as well he is dead,” Solas growled.

Fenris chuckled softly. “You are not the first person to say that in that manner.”

Solas smiled and brushed his thumb over Fenris’ knuckles again. “Are you sure about this?”

Fenris huffed. “No, not exactly but I’d like to try it anyway. If I don’t like it…”

“We will stop and I will ensure my magic does not affect the markings,” Solas said firmly. 

The mage looked at him for a moment, his expression troubled, then his face cleared. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word, Fenris’ stomach growled loudly. 

“I believe we should feed you first of all,” Solas said with a chuckle.

Fenris grumbled under his breath in an effort to defeat the blush he knew was colouring his cheeks. “I may have forgotten to eat lunch.”

Solas got to his feet and held out a hand to Fenris. “Come. It is early but I am sure we can coax something out of the cooks.”

Fenris allowed Solas to pull him to his feet but before they could move, he wrapped an arm around the mage’s waist and kissed him. Solas made a small sound of surprise then he returned the kiss fervently for a moment before gentling it again.

“Hold that thought, vhenan,” he said when they parted. “As tempting as it is to continue, I would prefer that you not faint with hunger in the middle of it.”

Fenris snorted. “I have done far more on far less.”

Solas got a look on his face that was similar to ones he’d seen on Hawke’s, Aveline’s and Isabela’s faces whenever he was cavalier about his past as a slave. It was a slightly dyspeptic look as though they saw the humour in what he’d said but couldn’t quite get past _where_ the humour had come from.

“I believe you say things like that quite deliberately to see what reaction you will get,” Solas said dryly.

Fenris shrugged as they headed out the door. “Perhaps. But it also true.”

Solas gave him another one of those loaded looks as they walked out the door. “I can only hope that not all Magisters were a bad as him.”

Fenris shrugged. “I have no idea. We were only in Minrathous for a short period of time before leaving for Seheron and we were there until the Qunari made a major push and most Tevinters were forced to leave.” He hesitated for a moment. “I was left behind.”

Solas made a growling sound under his breath. “Because they would not waste space for a slave, I assume?”

“Correct.” Fenris looked amused. “Danarius was furious. I think he would have left his apprentice behind instead of me if he’d been given the choice.”

“What happened?” Solas eyed him curiously. “Clearly you did not fall into the hands of the Qunari.”

“I ran and ended up with the Fog Warriors.” Fenris looked uncomfortable for a moment. “That’s where Danarius found me again. There was… it was…” 

He shuddered and then felt Solas’ hand rest gently on his shoulder.

“You do not need to tell me until you are ready,” the mage said soothingly. “That it was difficult is plainly obvious.”

Fenris nodded with a little relief. “I escaped him then. Ran south until I ended up in Kirkwall.”

“Where Hawke helped you.”

He nodded again. “With no interest in any payment once he found out the truth. It was the first time I had ever encountered someone who did not care that I had been a slave. Or rather, he _cared_ but only in terms of ensuring I stayed free, not in trying to take advantage of me.”

Solas nodded slowly as they walked. “Hawke appears to be a far more complex man than Varric’s tale would lead the reader to believe.”

“Varric’s book is part biography, part adventure tale and part obfuscation to protect people,” Fenris said with a snort.

Solas arched an eyebrow at him. “Then may I take it as read that the fate of Orsino is obfuscation? I have seen much in the Fade and many kinds of demons and abominations but that was a first.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “You may.”

“I would wonder why people would believe something that farfetched but the average villager would know little about demons and magic,” Solas said with a weary sigh. “Do you know where he is?”

Fenris shook his head. “Hawke and Varric dealt with that.” He shot a glance at Solas. “I think Cullen knows Orsino is still alive. Or suspects at least. I think he went out of his way to not find out the truth after Meredith died. If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t feel obligated to tell anyone.”

Solas raised an eyebrow at that but as they’d reached the kitchen, the conversation was set aside. As it turned out, dinner was all but ready so they were able to claim their share and return to Solas’ rooms. As they ate, Fenris looked around curiously again.

“I thought you didn’t like the Dalish,” he said, gesturing towards the wolf imagery. He paused as a few things Merrill had said came to mind. “Though I suppose Fen’Harel is one way to keep them away.”

He was still looking at one of the small paintings on the wall – a fresco much like the ones in the rotunda, though much smaller – and didn’t see the pained look that flickered across Solas’ face.

“You recognise it?” Solas said.

Fenris nodded. “The six-eyed wolf image is distinctive. Merrill used to tell stories some evenings in the Hanged Man about the Creators. She’d also point out the imagery if we saw it.”

“What did you think of the stories?”

Fenris looked at the mage curiously. “About Fen’Harel?” When Solas nodded, he shrugged. “I thought they were interesting. They were parables, I suppose. Tevinter has its own versions of them. Well, not exactly the same but parables with similar messages.”

“You don’t think the Creators are real?”

Fenris took a sip of his wine. “I’ve never thought about it. If I’m anything, it would probably be Andrastian but I don’t have much in the way of faith.” He snorted. “There’s not much faith in any kind of deity, human or otherwise, to be found among slaves.” He cocked an eyebrow at Solas. “And you?”

The mage’s smile was thin. “I do not believe in the Creators but neither am I Andrastian.”

“And yet you have images of Fen’Harel everywhere,” Fenris said with a wave of his hand.

Solas leaned back in his seat and turned his goblet of wine around in his hands. He seemed to find the dark red liquid inside to be fascinating.

“I have my reasons but…” He sighed. “I should tell you but the consequences…” He looked up now and smiled wanly. “I fear them. I fear losing you.”

Fenris frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I imagine it would hardly be a surprise if I said I was keeping secrets,” Solas said dryly and got an amused snort from Fenris in reply.

“I think everyone’s guessed that. You’re not that subtle about it.”

Solas rolled his eyes and looked unimpressed for a moment. “Thank you.”

Fenris looked remarkably unrepentant. “You like making obscure statements and then not explaining how you know what you know. Not to mention some of the conversations you have with Cole.”

Solas’ expression now became rather disgruntled. “I see.” He shook his head. “That is beside the point however.”

“Not really,” Fenris said bluntly. “Because you seem to think this secret will scare me off.”

“I am afraid it will cause you hate me,” Solas said with a directness that surprised Fenris. When he looked closer he could see that Solas looked unhappy but also determined, as though he hadn’t intended to set foot on this path but now that he _had_ , he was going to see it through to the end, no matter how terrible the consequences would be.

Fenris’ eyebrows went up. “Are you planning on telling me you keep slaves? Or intend to keep slaves?”

Solas looked startled. “What? No!”

“Then I doubt it’ll be hate. I reserve that emotion for that sort of thing.”

Solas stared at him, his expression as opaque as Fenris had ever seen. The mage then took a long drink of his wine and stood up. He moved away from the table and Fenris was surprised to see Solas swallow hard, his nerves visible for a bare second before he shimmered and turned into an extremely large six-eyed wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait! Was that a cliffhanger? Ooops! I promise I'll do my best not to leave you hanging for too long.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the revelation, questions are asked and answers are given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, I didn't make you wait long for this. :D

Fenris’ first reaction when the enormous six-eyed wolf appeared in the room was to stagger backwards with a startled oath, reaching for a sword he wasn’t wearing. He ignored the clattering of his chair as it fell and kept his eyes firmly on the wolf. His initial panic quickly died, especially when the wolf did not move, and slowly he began to make sense of what he was seeing. He glanced over to the little fresco on the wall, the one of Fen’Harel, and then looked back at the wolf. He drew in a sharp breath and settled with his back against the wall. If someone had asked him right now how he was feeling, he honestly could not have told them. This was certainly not the direction he’d thought this evening was going to go in.

“Solas?” he said carefully then he frowned. “Is your name actually Solas?”

The wolf transformed back into the elven mage he knew, a mage who now smiled thinly, though his eyes were full of sadness and worry.

“It is.” The pain in his eyes intensified. “The Elvhen language has evolved such that my name now means pride.” He gave a hollow laugh. “It is… appropriate.”

Fenris simply stared warily. “And… Fen’Harel?”

Now Solas’ thin little smile was full of such bitterness that Fenris winced. “A name given to me to as a form of mockery and contempt. I took it and wore it with pride. Turned it into a name my enemies feared and my allies rallied to.”

“Why would you have enemies and allies?”

Solas sighed and sank back down into his chair. “Because the Creators are real but they are not gods, Fenris. They were never gods. Powerful mages, yes, but not gods, no matter much the idea appealed to their egos.” He looked up and now Fenris could see anger and outrage in the mage’s eyes. “They were once great generals who lead our people well but then they turned into tyrants and despots. They ruled with iron fists and enslaved our own people.”

Fenris sucked in a breath as the old dull anger burst into life in his chest. “They?” he said harshly.

“They,” Solas repeated wearily. “Though I am kin to the Evanuris, I was never truly one of them.” He looked rather wry. “Being a general and leading people was never truly my forte. The Dalish get many things wrong about me but I will admit that labelling me as a trickster is not the worst of their mistakes. I always did prefer my own entertainments and I was… a renowned prankster in my youth.”

Fenris blinked at that idea and couldn’t, for the moment, match that with the person sitting in front of him. “What happened?”

“I tended to travel,” Solas said. “I was often away for years, decades, even centuries at a time, for the stories are not wrong when they say that we were immortal back then. I knew of no one who would bat an eyelid of spending centuries, even millennia in study or in the casting of just one spell.”

Fenris drew in a breath and forced himself to be calm. He still wasn’t sure why Solas was revealing all of this to him and he knew even less about how he was feeling right now. He was too stunned to think past that emotion just yet.

Solas took his silence as in indication to continue. “I came back from my travels one time to find my kin were enslaving our people. Marking them as property for all to see.”

“The vallaslin,” Fenris said with sudden understanding. Merrill had told him the markings were representations of their gods and were one of the few things that dated back to Arlathan. There was a small mean part of him that wanted to feel smug that Merrill had part of that wrong but now wasn’t really the time.

Solas nodded. “The vallaslin. One of the reasons I have such difficulty with the Dalish.” He looked angry, though Fenris thought that it wasn’t really directed at the Dalish. “That they wear slave markings with such pride! I argued with them… the Evanuris… I denounced the practice of slavery, debated, did everything I could to show them the path they were walking down was wrong. They ignored me. Mocked me and dismissed me. Gave me the name Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf.”

“How is that an insult?”

“It was the manner in which they said it,” Solas replied. “I… have always had an affinity with wolves. They are intelligent and wonderful animals. I often travelled in their company. Once I started opposing my kin, I was often greeted with mocking comments along the lines of ‘oh, here comes the dread wolf to harangue us about our behaviour again’.”

Fenris snorted at that and Solas gave him a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes before continuing.

“So, I decided to take action. I would free slaves when and where I could. Take them to safe places, remove their vallaslin and teach them the truth of those they saw as gods. Help them learn to be free again.” His expression darkened. “It wasn’t long before the Evanuris realised what I was doing and forced me to fight for the slaves. I did. I didn’t hesitate to do so. What they were doing was wrong.”

Fenris reached for his chair and righted it. He sat down and stared at the mage. So that was the explanation for Solas’ reaction to his past and to slavery in general. He had been right. Solas had far greater experience with it than he’d thought. He’d done things for the slaves that he could only wish he’d had access to. He’d had to learn all of that by trial and error and it had not always gone well.

“You did imprison them, didn’t you?” he said, remembering Merrill’s stories.

Solas was still for a moment then he nodded. “I did. Things… came to a head when Mythal was murdered.” He looked grief-stricken for a moment and Fenris realised that though this may have happened millennia ago, to Solas, it wasn’t so long. “She was my friend. She was the best of us and they murdered her.” He scowled. “I know the Dalish stories say that I did that but that is not true. I didn’t know which of them did it and I did not care! Whether it was one or many, they must have all known and none of them stopped it. I swore then I would stop them.”

He slumped in his chair and buried his face in his hands for a moment before raising it again. “So I did. I came here, to this place which is mine, and I… I brought down the Veil. I imprisoned the Evanuris on the other side of it but I also destroyed everything. In bringing down the Veil, I destroyed Arlathan, brought the elven empire to ruins and left my people scattered and destitute, cut off from all they had known, cut off from all they had once had and been. I cut us off from the Fade and our world was so tightly bound with the Fade and its magic that it could not survive the Veil being brought down.”

“What have you been doing since then?” Fenris asked carefully.

“Sleeping,” Solas replied. “It took so much from me, nearly all my strength and power, that I had no choice but to seek the relief of the Uthenera. It was only when I started to wake from that several years ago that I saw what I had wrought, what I had done to my people.”

Fenris was starting to come to some nasty suspicions. “And what did you do?”

Solas gave him a look that said he knew Fenris wasn’t going to be happy with his answer but he wasn’t going to shy away from it.

“I sought to shatter the Veil,” he said. “I sought a way to gain the power needed to destroy the Veil and restore everything I could to the people.”

Fenris lurched to his feet and started pacing, his markings flickering with light from his agitation. The ache from that was effective at focusing his mind. It always had been.

“Wouldn’t that free the Evanuris?” Then he paused and rounded on Solas to demand, “And what would that do to the world?”

“I will take care of the Evanuris,” Solas said with a dangerous look on his face. Then the dangerous look disappeared and he sighed wearily. “Bringing down the Veil would destroy the world as it is now.”

Fenris growled. “And you think that is acceptable?”

“Fenris, the elves have lost so much because of me! I have to make it right,” Solas pleaded.

Fenris made a swift, sharp negating gesture with one hand. “And have you asked them if that’s what they want? How many of them would die if they didn’t want it and you went ahead with it anyway?”

“I…” Solas began.

“Have you even asked whether we would want to have magic?” He glared at Solas. “ _I_ do not.”

Solas reared back. “Fenris…”

“Free the slaves, by all means,” Fenris snarled, not letting Solas speak. “Demand our land that they promised us, gave us, then took away. But this? Is madness.” He glared at Solas again. “Can you even guarantee that you could _take care_ of the Evanuris?”

Solas’ jaw worked for a moment then he slumped. “No.”

“And what would happen if they were freed?” Fenris demanded. “They would come after you certainly but what of the rest of us? The humans? The dwarves? The Qunari? They would enslave the elves again – it would be easy with the Dalish, wouldn’t it? They’re already wearing slave markings and having their gods amongst them? They’d fall into it and be enslaved before they realised the truth of the matter. And the rest? The humans? The dwarves? They’d kill them, wouldn’t they? If they are as powerful as you say, what defences would any of us have against them?”

He suddenly stopped and the look he gave Solas was sulphurous. “The Breach. That’s your fault, isn’t it?”

“ _NO_!” Solas all but yelled, leaping to his feet. He looked angry and frustrated. “No!” He shook his head, speechless in his frustration for a moment. “I… I arranged for Corypheus to find the orb, that is true. He had the ability to give it the power I needed. But I had no idea he planned to attack the Conclave and the Divine and using it was supposed to destroy him! I have no idea how he managed to survive the blast nor that it would have such catastrophic effects. Why would I have come to help the Herald and the Inquisition if I had caused this?”

Fenris snorted derisively. “Did you bother to find out _anything_ about him? The Grey Wardens had him locked away with blood magic. Even they couldn’t kill him and they can kill an Archdemon. We tried but it’s clear we didn’t.” 

Fenris stuttered for a moment as a memory came back of Larius’ behaviour after Corypheus had been killed. He’d thought it odd at the time but had dismissed it as being simply due to the end of whatever influence Corypheus had on him. He set that aside for the moment.

“So why did you tell me this?” he demanded.

“Because I couldn’t lie to you. Not when you were so willing to trust me to the point of allowing me to use my magic on you,” Solas said simply. “And I know… I know I have likely driven you away with this.”

Fenris placed both hands on the table and leaned closer. “That depends. What are you planning for the future? Because what you intend… I cannot…” He shook his head. “I will stop you by whatever means necessary.”

Solas smiled wanly. “I knew it was going to come to this. I knew I could follow my plans or I could love you but not both.”

Fenris looked startled. “Love?”

“ _Fenris_ ,” Solas said with a pained laugh. “What did you think this _was_ on my part? I never intended to fall in love with you but when does love ever obey our wishes? I _do_ love you though.”

Fenris straightened and took a step back. “And what of your plans?”

Solas opened his mouth and then closed it again with a helpless expression before managing a broken, “I… I don’t know.”

Fenris stared at him for a moment then turned on one heel and left the room without another word. Solas watched him go then buried his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! What's Fenris going to do now? Go to the Inquisitor? Walk away again? You'll have to wait and see!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gains some clarity from an unexpected source. He also faces a fact that he'd been denying.

Much later Fenris would be pleased that he’d had the sense not to storm through the corridors of Skyhold and create a scene after he left Solas’ rooms. Had the Inquisitor or Varric asked questions of him at that point, he might well have _answered_ them and created the kind of chaos that wasn’t really needed by anyone. Instead, he’d slipped as quietly as possible down to the little abandoned study he’d claimed as his and hunkered down in there.

He looked around after he’d ensconced himself out of sight behind the desk and wondered whether any of this had belonged to Solas. He’d picked up the slightly oblique reference to Skyhold belonging at one time to the elven mage, to being the place where Solas had used to bring down the Veil. Were these things his or did they belong to subsequently tenants over the millennia? He dismissed the question with an angry shake of his head. Did it really _matter_ right now?

He slumped down against the bookshelf and glared at the desk unseeingly, trying to categorise how he felt. Confused, certainly. Angry, _definitely_. Shocked was also a key emotion and that one stood on two fronts – both at the revelation of who Solas really was and that the mage loved him. On the latter score, he would admit to himself that he hadn’t even tried to really examine what he felt for the mage. It had been too much to think about in conjunction with the issue of the effect of Solas’ magic on his markings. He’d set aside the contemplation of the emotions until later. He didn’t really have a choice right now.

“Chaos and confusion, thoughts swirling in a maelstrom, why did he tell me this?”

Fenris audibly snarled then glared at the young man who had seemingly materialised out of nothing to sit cross-legged just out of reach.

“What do you _want_ , Cole?” he growled.

The spirit boy peered at him hesitantly from under the brim of his ridiculous hat. “To help. I _can_ help. I want to help.” He paused for a moment. “I know.”

Fenris blinked. “Know what?” he snapped.

“Solas,” Cole replied. “I know who he is.” He ducked his head a little more. “Lost, all lost and gone. My fault, my fault, my fault. I didn’t know.”

“Do you know what he plans to do?” Fenris growled.

Cole nodded and tipped his head up enough for Fenris to see the sorrow on his face. “It won’t work. I’ve told him but he won’t hear. We’ve changed. You’ve changed. We were once all one but we can’t be again. We changed too much, you and me. If he tears down the Veil, you will die and we will too. In our own way. Only he will be left. Alone.”

Fenris frowned as he made sense of the spirit’s words. “Why won’t he listen to you?”

“He listens but he refuses to hear,” Cole said. “So much grief. So much pain. Drowning in guilt. His People brought so low. His fault. Like a great wall in front of him and I’m behind the wall. He can listen but the wall is too big. It stops him from hearing me.” He ducked his head again and when he continued, he sounded distressed, “He won’t let me help him. I’m _supposed_ to help. That’s what I do.”

Fenris considered that for a moment. It actually made sense in its way. He knew the feeling of listening to someone saying something but not really hearing it because there is another problem that is too big. Hadn’t that been what it had been like whenever Hawke or one of the others had talked about him being free when he still had the spectre of Danarius looming over him? He knew what they were saying but it didn’t really register because in his mind, he wasn’t free while Danarius was alive.

“Yes!” Cole said with a small smile. “Yes, you understand.” He frowned a little. “I don’t. Not really. But I’m me and you’re you.”

Fenris huffed and scowled at the reminder that his thoughts were not entirely his own. Only the memory of Solas telling him that the spirit couldn’t _help_ hearing when emotions that might require compassion were involved kept his reaction at just a scowl.

“Why haven’t you told the Inquisitor about Solas?”

“He asked me not to,” Cole said simply. “And he wants to close the Breach. He won’t do anything until the Breach is closed.” He eyed Fenris for a moment. “He hears you. He doesn’t hear me but he hears you. I can’t make him stop but you make him think about it.”

“He says he love me.”

Cole’s smile widened. “He does!” he said happily. “So very much. It’s bright and wonderful and makes him happy. He thinks of you and he is happy.” He sobered again. “It also makes him sad and frightened. He thinks you will leave him now. That hurts. He doesn’t want you to leave him. He wants you with him always. He doesn’t want to hurt. He has too much hurt within him already. The hurt makes him frightened and lonely.” He cocked his head and looked at Fenris thoughtfully. “I can’t help his hurt. He won’t let me. But maybe you can? People can do that. I’ve noticed that. People can heal hurts that I can’t. It’s very strange. I’m trying to understand.”

Fenris frowned at the floor. “I… don’t know how I feel about him.”

Cole cocked his head curiously again. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. You’re frightened too. It’s alright, Fenris. You don’t have to be scared. Danarius is dead. So is Hadriana. And no one will let someone make you a slave again.” He laughed. “Solas won’t let it happen, even if you hate him. He would turn the world around for you if you let him.” He sobered again. “Loving someone gives them power over you but only as much as you allow. It’s not a bad thing, Fenris. It’s alright to let someone love you and to love them back. It’s not a trap or a cage.”

Fenris drew in a shuddering breath and finally admitted to himself that somewhere along the line between Haven and here, he had fallen in love with Solas. The wash of fear that followed the words made him shake and curl up into himself.

“It’s alright, Fenris. It really is. You don’t have to be afraid.” Cole’s quiet words were oddly soothing. “It’s new for you and new things are often scary but you don’t have to be scared. Not of this. This is a good new thing. Solas loves you too. You can help each other’s hurts and that’s good.”

Fenris wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his forehead against them as he let the fear slowly die down to a point where he could think clearly. He loved Solas. He was a good feeling, though right at this moment, it was a feeling mixed with a lot of anger and worry for the future. A thought occurred to him and he raised his head and looked at Cole.

“Would he stop? His plans, I mean. If I asked him to, would he stop?”

Cole was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. He wants you, he loves you but he grieves for his people and what he thinks he did to them. Both are strong within him.”

Fenris frowned. “Wait. What he _thinks_ he did to them?”

“He brought down the Veil. He separated the people from the Fade,” Cole said slowly. “Arlathan was in both worlds and thus it too fell. But what happened to the elves afterwards? He didn’t do that. That was the actions of others and of the elves themselves. And…” Cole twitched and frowned. “He doesn’t know what the Evanuris wanted to do. They were planning something worse.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I tried to tell Solas this but…”

“He wasn’t listening.”

“He wasn’t hearing me,” Cole corrected sadly. 

“How do you know though?”

“Echoes in the Fade,” Cole replied. “Ancient echoes in ancient places. I knew them before I made myself come here. Ancient echoes that frightened me and others in the Fade. Full of anger and malice and malevolence.”

Fenris frowned. “So you’re saying that it was the lesser of two evils? That Solas may have brought down the Veil but the Evanuris were planning something even more catastrophic?”

“I don’t know,” Cole replied. “I only know about those ancient echoes. So very ancient.”

Fenris fell silent as he thought about that. Cole didn’t seem to mind and sometime nodded encouragingly to him.

“Why did he tell me all of that?” he finally asked. “Do you know?”

“He didn’t want to lie to you,” Cole replied promptly, as thought he’d expected that question. If he’d been following Fenris’ thoughts, he probably had. “Love can’t live in lies and this lie would be too big to expect anything to survive its revelation later. Tell the truth now and hope to salvage the love.”

Fenris nodded. That made sense. As angry and confused and upset as he was finding out about this now, if he’d found out months or even years down the track, he couldn’t say what his reaction might be, he just knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near as contained as it was now.

He looked over at Cole. “Do you have any advice?”

Cole looked startled and then rather shyly pleased. “He grieves about what happened to the elves and thinks his way is the only way. He can’t see past his grief. Maybe you can?”

Fenris grunted. “I will stop him. In whatever way I can. I won’t let him destroy the world.”

“He knows.”

“How can…” Fenris hesitated and scrubbed his face with one hand. “I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t hate him,” Cole said calmly. “You know what hate is and that’s not what this is. You know that.”

“Can I convince him to stop?”

“I don’t know. Grief, guilt, longing so deep it hurts, hurts like a knife in your side. So much hurt.” Cole looked at him, his eyes wide and deep with some sort of unfathomable knowledge. Just for a moment, there was no doubting that Cole wasn’t human. “He needs to heal. To look ahead and not behind. Worlds turn and change, people grow and move. He didn’t. He slept. He slept as the elves grew and changed and turned and moved.”

“He wants to… go back?” Fenris asked.

Cole cocked his head thoughtfully. “He can’t. No one can. He thinks he’s alone.”

Fenris stared at Cole for a moment then he sighed. “He isn’t.”

“No,” Cole said with a small smile. “He has you.”

Fenris leaned back against the bookshelf behind him and stared up at the ceiling. Fear still thrummed deep in his chest, fear of the unknown, fear of trusting someone, of _loving_ someone. But he knew himself, better now than he ever had before. It had been a constant slow process that had begun when Hawke had accompanied him to Danarius’ mansion for no other reason than because he’d thought it was the right thing to do. If he was the same person he’d been back in Kirkwall, even after Danarius had died, he would be running right now, either literally or metaphorically. Or both. But he wasn’t that person. So he wasn’t going to run, not this time.

He lowered his face to find Cole looking at him approvingly. “You should go to him.”

Fenris nodded and got to his feet. He looked at Cole and hesitated for a long, long moment. He’d avoided Cole at first and even now, the boy made him uneasy but this was different from Anders and Justice and he could see that now. 

“Thank you.”

He didn’t wait for Cole’s response and instead walked out of the ancient study and headed for the stairs.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris returns to Solas and they talk. Then they have an interesting dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Maker, I did not mean to leave it so long between updates. I'm sorry for that. Work threw me a few curve balls and made life difficult. But on the bright side, I have two chapters for you!

Fenris made his way slowly back up to Solas’ rooms. There was a small part of him that wanted to turn and run but he ignored it. That was an old urge, an old habit, and one that needed to die. He knew he couldn’t always run from difficult emotional situations – hadn’t this whole situation and Isabela’s pointed comments proven that? – and he was going to start now. It did occur to him that Solas may have chosen to run himself while he was gone. He had taken an enormous risk telling Fenris all that he had. He had to have calculated the odds of Fenris going to Adaar when he left and if that had happened, the best thing he could do is leave. Adaar was generally something of a gentle giant but he had a temper and this? This was likely to set it off.

But when he arrived at the door of Solas’ room and knocked, the mage bade him to enter, albeit after a long pause. Fenris opened the door and found Solas standing in front of the window, staring out of it with his hands clasped behind his back. He closed the door and a strained silence reigned in the room for a moment.

Fenris sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

Solas whirled around and Fenris had to swallow the urge to laugh at the look of offended pride on the mage’s face. Then it was replaced by relief, trepidation and worry.

“Fenris,” he said softly. “I… wasn’t sure if you were going to return.”

Fenris stomped over to Solas and prodded him in the chest as he spoke. “You are an idiot. I will not let you destroy the world trying to get back something that is gone.” He scowled. “And you need to start listening to what Cole’s been trying to tell you.”

“I can’t…” Solas began, looking very disconcerted.

“You think I don’t know what it is like?” Fenris demanded. “In my own way, I do.” He gestured towards his markings. “If my sister is to be believed, I fought for these. My guess is I didn’t know what was truly going to happen but that doesn’t change the fact that I fought for them. And my prize was markings that _hurt_ almost all of the time and no memory of who I am or what I was. _Nothing_. They are all gone and I will never have them back, no matter what I do. Even killing Danarius did not change that. I do not know who I am. I know who I have made myself into but….” He shook his head. “My sister says my name is Leto. I do not remember that any more than I remember her. She says we were happy. She, our mother and myself. I do not remember. It is gone and it will never come back.”

He turned away and started pacing. “I spent _years_ staring backwards, looking over my shoulder for Danarius and dwelling on the past. It was only when I stopped and started moving forwards that I began to feel…” He swallowed. “Whole. Like I was a person. Ten years, Solas. Ten years going _nowhere_ because all I could think about was the past instead of looking at what was around me and in front of me.”

“It’s not the same,” Solas said with a shake of his head.

“It _is_ ,” Fenris insisted. “Yes, your situation is… bigger but the fundamentals at the bottom of it are the same. You’re spending all your time looking backwards, trying to bring back a past that is gone, and if there is one thing I have learned, Solas, it is that _nothing_ can bring back the past.”

Solas sighed and leaned against the wall. “When I look at what has become of the People…”

“Yes, it’s bad,” Fenris growled. “But it is _not_ all your fault. Thousands of years have passed, Solas. Yes, the humans have persecuted us but we’ve made our own bad decisions as well. _You_ are not responsible for those decisions or what the humans did.”

“But if I hadn’t acted, those things would never have happened,” Solas snapped.

“Or something worse would have happened.” Solas stared at him and Fenris rolled his eyes. “You really haven’t been listening to Cole, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“He _told_ you about what he felt in the Fade before he forced himself into this world,” Fenris snarled. “Ancient echoes, he called them. Echoes that apparently came from wherever it was you shoved the Evanuris, if I understood him correctly.”

Solas looked at him blankly for a moment then he ran a hand down his face. “You are right. I have not listened to him. I vaguely recall him saying something about that but I…”

“Didn’t listen.” Fenris huffed. “He says that’s been a common thing from you.”

Solas gave him a flat look. “Since when have you been Cole’s confidant?”

“Since he decided I was the best person to _heal your hurt_ ,” Fenris said with a roll of his eyes. “Because you won’t let him do it.” He gave a disgruntled huff. “Also, if I understand what you said about him, I probably drew him like a moth to a flame when I left here.”

Solas licked his lips. “Ah, yes. No doubt we were both calling to him. I am glad he went to you.”

Fenris sighed and went and sat down. “This wasn’t what I wanted tonight.”

“I know,” Solas said wryly. “But I could not lie to you.”

“So now I have to keep your secret as well?”

“You have to do what you think is best,” Solas replied. “I would never demand that of you.”

Fenris looked up at him. “Kaaras is going to be monumentally pissed at you.”

Solas sighed and sank down into the seat opposite Fenris. “I am aware of that. Will you tell him?”

“Only if I can’t convince you about how much of an idiot you’re being.”

Solas smiled faintly. “That is fair enough.” He cocked his head slightly. “I do hope you succeed.”

Fenris looked at him for a moment and realised that he was very serious. It made some of what Cole had said to him make sense. Cole had said that Solas couldn’t see past his grief nor could he see any other way to right what he saw as his wrongs. But apparently he _was_ willing to be convinced and Cole had said he wouldn’t do anything until the Breach had been closed. So he had some time.

“So what now?” he said with a sigh.

Solas hesitated. “Will you stay? I don’t know about you but I feel exhausted.”

Fenris snorted and smiled a little. “I believe that’s your fault but, yes, I’ll stay.”

Solas got to his feet and held out one hand. Fenris took and let the mage pull him to his feet. Solas ushered him over to the bed and saw him settled in before he doused the lanterns and joined him. Once again, they curled up with Solas’ back against his chest and Fenris rested his forehead against the back of the mage’s head.

“Have you always been bald?” he asked into the darkness of the room.

Solas surprised him by chuckling. “No, I have not. I was quite wild when I was younger and had long hair. I still did when I brought down the Veil but…” He paused. “Normally if we entered the Uthenera, there were attendants to take care of our physical bodies. I had set up various wards and spells to compensate but they could only do so much. By the time I woke up…” He chuckled again. “My hair had a number of residents of varying descriptions. The wards had kept me intact and in reasonable health but… there was little I could do with my hair other than shave it off entirely.”

“Why not grow it out again?”

“It changed the way I looked. I didn’t think anyone would recognise me now but it seemed prudent to… divorce myself as much as I could from anything that might make me recognisable. No one would see the wild, rebellious Fen’Harel in the sober, deferential Solas.”

Fenris hummed in acknowledgement then slowly slid into sleep. When he opened his eyes again he was standing… somewhere he did not recognise. It was certainly Solas’ room or anywhere within Skyhold. It was the outskirts of a city, a beautiful city of filigree archways and enormous, yet strangely delicate buildings. Music unlike anything he’d ever heard before hung in the air, beguiling and fascinating him. In the distance, elves walked along high pathways through enormous trees and strange sculptures.

“Do you like it?”

Fenris started and whirled around to find Solas standing behind him, though it was a Solas he had never seen before. His hair was caught up in long braids and shaved at the sides with a wolf skull headdress, the likes of which Fenris had never seen before. He was wearing gleaming gold armour and had a wolf pelt slung over one shoulder. He looked… wild and young.

He looked back over his shoulder for a moment. “This is the Fade.”

Solas inclined his head. “It is. This was Arlathan at her best, before the Evanuris descended into madness and started enslaving our people.”

“How is this possible? I am not a mage,” Fenris said with a shiver.

“No, you are not but your markings hold enough magic for me to be able to draw you into a place like this.” 

Solas stepped close behind him and rested one hand on his waist. That was when Fenris realised he was no longer wearing the soft linen shirt and breeches he’d gone to sleep in. He was wearing tight leather breeches and a sort of harness somewhat akin to Bull’s that covered his shoulders and arms but left his chest, back and stomach bare.

He turned his head an arched an eyebrow as he gestured towards what he was wearing. “Your handiwork?”

Solas chuckled and Fenris could feel the wolf pelt against his back. “Not precisely. You are a warrior and the Fade sought to dress you appropriate to the occasion.”

Fenris snorted. “I wouldn’t call this armour.”

“We all had magic back then,” Solas replied. “Our warriors could bow to their favoured aesthetics and allow magic to make up the rest. There were some among them who sported elaborate tattoos on their bodies. They wore things like this to show them off.”

Fenris harrumphed at that but didn’t try to change what he was wearing. He wasn’t a mage to be able to manipulate the Fade and if he could do so because of his markings, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Solas pressed against his back and placed both hands on his waist. He could feel the warmth of the mage’s touch and he licked his lips.

“Do you like it?”

He looked out at the city laid before him. “It’s very beautiful.” He frowned a little. “What’s that music?”

He felt a jolt run through him as Solas’ lips brushed along his ear as he spoke. “Some of it is just music but part of what you hear is magic. Spells that take years in the weaving and even longer in the casting.”

Fenris shivered and he couldn’t tell if it was from Solas’ voice and the touch of his lips or the mention of magic. Then the mage’s warmth disappeared and he stepped around and held out one hand.

“Come, Fenris.”

He hesitated for a moment then placed his hand in Solas’ and allowed the mage to lead him to a nearby pavilion. There were two comfortable chairs set up in the pavilion and between them was a table laden with wine and a platter of fruit and cheese.

“What’s going on?” Fenris asked with a suspicious look. “If you’re trying to convince me that your plan isn’t utter madness…”

“No,” Solas said, gesturing for Fenris to sit down. “I simply wish to… enjoy this with you.”

Fenris eyed him dubiously for a moment then he sat down. Solas poured him some wine and then sat down as well. Fenris picked up the wine glass and stared at the liquid warily. He’d never had a Fade dream like this and he wasn’t sure he really liked it that much.

“Is this what it’s like for mages when they dream?” he asked.

“Not precisely,” Solas replied. “I have an ability to manipulate the Fade that most mages could not even imagine.”

“Because of your… prior experience,” Fenris said sourly.

Solas smiled slightly. “More or less. A difference in the way we view the Fade is also a factor. I do not see the Fade as a place to fear. It is simply a place, like any other.” He chuckled at the look on Fenris’ face and amended his statement. “Well, perhaps not like any other but it is no more dangerous than any other. Its dangers simply take on a different form.”

Fenris grunted and took a hesitant sip of his wine. It tasted like… wine, no different to anything he might have drunk in Skyhold or Kirkwall. He looked up to find Solas watching him with what could only be described as very fond amusement.

“Nothing here will harm you,” he said, gesturing from the table to the view in front of them. “It is true that what you eat and drink here will not sustain you or have any effect on you outside the Fade but it will not harm you.” He paused for a moment. “Nor will there be demons or even spirits if you do not wish to have anything to do with them. Think of it as simply a… pleasant dream, albeit one that is real and not a construction of your mind.”

Fenris nodded and looked out at the city again. “Why?”

“Why did I do this?” Fenris nodded and Solas continued, “It wasn’t to try and convince you of anything.” He sighed. “I feel that I perhaps did not handle telling you all that I did very well, though I’m not sure if there really _was_ a good way to do that. I hoped that this might be a way of… giving you some respite. Ensuring you had a pleasant dream.”

Fenris took sip of his wine as he considered that. There were a lot of ways he could answer it but it occurred to him that his best response might be to take a leaf out of Isabela’s book. If this was meant to be a respite and not a resumption of what he assumed was going to be a long series of potentially very heated discussions about Solas’ plans, then it might be better to treat it that way instead of allowing it to drift into those heated discussions.

With that in mind, he took a long drink of wine to bolster his courage then set his glass aside. He got to his feet and before Solas could react or say anything, he walked over and straddled Solas’ legs, settling himself into the mage’s lap. Solas looked startled for a moment then he looked down as his hands came to rest on Fenris’ thighs. He raised his head to reveal a wry smile and ran his hands up to rest on Fenris’ hips.

“You continue to surprise me, Fenris.”

Fenris shrugged and ran his fingers through the fur of the wolf pelt. “I decided to think about how Isabela would handle this situation and try that.”

“I really must meet this woman,” Solas said, his smile broadening. 

“With or without her knowing who you really are?” Fenris asked dryly.

“Perhaps without may be better.” He laughed at Fenris’ reaction. “I did not evade the Evanuris so successfully by lacking a strong survival instinct.” He ran his hands along Fenris’ thighs again. “So now what do you intend to do?”

Fenris immediately leaned in and kissed Solas. He was half-expecting it to be different in the Fade, to be ephemeral or insignificant, but it was no different from the previous time they kissed. Better perhaps because Fenris knew what and who he wanted. As they kissed, Solas’ hands drifted up his thighs again to rest against his sides and he felt the first tingle of the ancient elf’s magic trickle along his markings. It just as abruptly stopped and he pulled away with a small frown.

“I wanted you to try. I told you that.”

Solas shook his head. “Not here. I have done all I can to shield this place from the denizens of the Fade but these…” He ran his fingers along the markings. “Until I understand more about them, I do not wish to risk them drawing the attention of spirits. Or demons.”

Fenris shivered, though it was more at the feel of Solas’ touch than the thought of demons being drawn to them. “What do you mean by understand them?”

Solas drew him back down into a kiss. “They are lyrium, branded into your very skin in a way I have never seen before,” he said between deep, long, drugging kisses. “Among other things, I worry about whatever it is that caused the red lyrium. I will not lose you to that corruption.”

Fenris hummed, his attention more on the kisses than what Solas was saying. His hand clenched in the wolf pelt Solas wore and he rocked his hips forward experimentally, drawing a groan from both of them.

Solas gripped his hips to still them. “Not here,” he murmured again. “When we do this, I want it to be real, not a dream in the Fade.”

“I thought you were of the opinion that everything in the Fade _is_ real,’ Fenris said archly.

“It is,” Solas said, looking amused. “But there is still a difference between the two.” His expression turned rather wry. “Besides, heightened emotions do tend to draw the attention of spirits and I expect that would not make you very comfortable.”

Fenris grunted. “A point.”

He shivered and half closed his eyes when Solas slid his hands up his sides and across his stomach and chest.

“So, we shall make do with this and leave anything more to be anticipated?” the mage suggested.

Fenris nodded and leaned in to kiss him. He found that he didn’t really mind Solas slowing down the pace. It wasn’t what he was used to but then his experience was, apart from Isabela, not exactly what you would call acceptable, let alone ideal. He had been willing to let Isabela guide him in the past in navigating a healthy relationship and now he was willing to do the same with Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what Solas and Fenris were wearing in the Fade, [this gorgeous artwork](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/148286687668/art-by-g-i-cant-even-apologize-for-this) gives a good idea, though Fenris isn't wearing that blue shirt thing.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric points a few things out to Fenris and he pushes matters in the direction he wishes to go. But things don't always run smoothly.

“So, Broody, you and Chuckles have been looking very cosy of late.”

Fenris looked over at the dwarf who had just sat down opposite him at the table in the Herald’s Rest and raised an eyebrow.

“And your point is?” he replied with a severity that he did not in the least feel and from the glint in Varric’s eyes, he knew that very well.

“I like seeing people in love,” Varric said with an expansive wave of his hands and a wicked grin. “It makes my weary old heart skip a beat.”

“You mean it gives you fodder for that appalling drivel you call writing?”

Varric clutched dramatically at his chest as though he’d just been wounded. “I’m hurt, Broody. That drivel is not appalling. It’s the finest drivel a dwarf can write. My editor says so and she’d know.” He cocked his head, the mischief rising to the fore in his eyes again. “But now that you mention it, it would make a tale to swoon for. The brooding warrior and the mysterious mage. It practically writes itself!”

“I sincerely hope it does _not_ ,” Fenris said archly.

“I can’t make any promises,” Varric replied. “But all names will be changed to protect the less than innocent.”

Fenris snorted and took a drink of his ale. He’d learned to steer clear of the wine in the tavern as it was only about half a step above being vinegar. It was better to importune Josephine or steal some from Dorian. Generally the latter. The mage’s tantrums about it were always hilarious to watch and he’d started getting the impression that Dorian was putting on a show for him when he did that. He’d _also_ gotten the impression that the tantrums weren’t precisely directed at _him_ either since, after the first few, they rarely happened unless a certain Commander was in the vicinity and that was something he was watching with interest.

“No, seriously, Broody,” Varric said, sobering and leaning in a bit closer. “Everything’s good with you and Chuckles?”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Of course I do,” Varric blustered.

Fenris caught the thin thread of hurt in the dwarf’s eyes and he waved a hand in apology. “I apologise. Everything is… very good.”

“Isabela will be pleased to hear that,” Varric said, his smile returning. “She’s been pestering me about what’s going on.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Of course she is. You’d better tell her before she turns up here and starts writing _friend fiction_.”

Varric chuckled. “And Hawke’s been sending notes from the Western Approach with a lot of scribbling out on them. I’m kind of presuming he’s concerned as well.”

Fenris sighed and took another drink. “You might as well tell him as well.”

“I don’t have to,” Varric said, suddenly serious. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“No, it’s… fine. He knows a bit anyway.”

“In light of his vague, often scribbled out questions, I’ve been giving him vague, often scribbled out answers but I’ll be a bit more specific next time.”

Fenris chuckled. “He’s probably been driving Stroud mad.”

“Quite likely,” Varric said. He cocked his head a little. “So whatever trouble there was between you two has been sorted out? Your markings are okay?”

Fenris smiled a little at Varric’s obvious concern. When the dwarf had first started acting the mother hen around him back in Kirkwall, he hadn’t known how to handle it or what it meant. He’d grumbled and growled at Varric, eying him suspiciously and expecting the worst, until he’d observed that Varric acted the mother hen with all of their friends. It was just the way he was. It hadn’t made it any less alarming and uncomfortable at first but when time had proven that it was simple, genuine concern and nothing else, he finally relaxed about it and allowed the dwarf to fuss over him.

“Everything is fine,” he said. “He knows how to stop his magic affecting my markings but we haven’t tried anything else.” He paused for a moment then shrugged. “He wants to move slowly.”

Varric grinned. “Aww, so Chuckles is a closet romantic, is he? I would never have guessed.”

“I don’t mind,” Fenris said with a shrug. “It’s not as if I have much experience in an actual relationship.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Varric replied. “That’s why I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I don’t want him to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who can be pushed into something I don’t want to do?” He let his markings flare for just a second.

“There is that but my point still stands, Broody. You said yourself that you don’t have much experience with relationships. I just don’t want either of you hurting the other by accident because of that.”

“Your concern is… noted,” Fenris said. “But unnecessary.”

Varric snorted. “You say that now but you know what Hawke’s like. I let you get hurt, he’s going to give me that frowny face and the disappointed eyes and no one wants that, Broody.” He pointed a finger at Fenris. “No one.”

Fenris chuckled. He knew exactly what Varric was talking about. “I will do my best to spare you that.”

“Good.” He took a long drink of his ale and when he looked at Fenris again, there was humour and mischief gleaming in his eyes. “So… do I need to give Chuckles the shovel talk?”

Fenris snorted and actually laughed. “Now that would be a sight.” He then shook his head. “No, you do not.”

“You sure?”

“Very.”

Varric was distracted by a shout from a group of soldiers who had just walked in. He patted Fenris on the shoulder and headed off to join the soldiers. Fenris watched him go with amusement then turned back to his ale. He thought about what Varric had said about being pushed into doing something he didn’t want to do. It was certainly true that Solas had made no move to push things along too quickly and now that he thought about it, Fenris realised he was feeling a bit disgruntled about that. He also realised that was probably Solas’ point. Solas wasn’t going to push because he couldn’t always judge if he was pushing too far, too fast. So if this relationship was going to go further, it was going to be Fenris’ job to push it along at whatever pace he was comfortable with.

Fenris sighed and finished his ale. It would have been nice if Solas had actually mentioned that to him but then, he probably thought Fenris already knew it. There had been enough hints in things he’d said for it to be obvious if you were actually listening. Fenris decided his defence would be that Solas was often being very distracting when he was saying those things so it wasn’t his fault he’d missed them until now.

He got up and slipped out of the tavern. He made his way across the upper courtyard and into the main building, turning right past Varric’s abandoned table and entering the rotunda. There was no sign of Solas in the room so he turned away and headed for the mage’s rooms. He knocked at the door and when he was bade to enter, he opened the door and walked in. Solas was sitting on the sofa on the far wall, reading a book. He looked up when Fenris walked in and set the book aside.

“Vhenan, I thought you were spending the evening in the tavern.”

“I was,” Fenris replied as he began to slowly walk around the room. “Varric was there. He said a few things.”

“Varric is very good at saying a few things,” Solas said drolly. “Though it rarely stays at just a few.”

Fenris chuckled. “True. But this was a useful conversation.” He stopped and turned to face Solas. “How long were you going to wait for me to push things along?”

Solas made no attempt to deny what he’d been doing. “As long as you needed.”

Fenris grunted. “A small push might have been nice.”

“I thought you were aware.”

Fenris smirked. “You’re very distracting.”

Solas blinked and looked momentarily confused then his expression cleared and he laughed. He got up and sauntered over, stopping in front of Fenris. He placed his hands on Fenris’ waist and pulled him close.

“Am I now?”

Fenris’ eyes became half-lidded as he breathed in Solas’ scent. He could see the slightly predatory look in Solas’ eyes and marvelled once again that _he_ , of all people, had captured the attention and apparently heart of a _god_. Not his god and not a god at all if Solas was asked. He knew better than to say anything like that to Solas, in fact. The mage tended to splutter and rant coldly if he was called a god. So Fenris did it on occasion to tease and to watch that splutter and rant but not now. He had more interesting things planned for right now than watching Solas fume and laughing at him in turn.

Instead he began to slowly walk them back towards the bed. “Yes,” he said, closing the gap between then and kissing the mage. “But I’m tired of you backing off all the time.”

“Then I shall endeavour to not do so tonight,” Solas replied.

“Good.” 

Fenris’ legs hit the side of the bed and he let himself fall backwards onto it, pulling Solas with him. The mage bit out a curse then caught himself with both hands on either side of Fenris’ head. He then gave Fenris an exasperated look.

“There are more graceful ways to do that.”

Fenris shrugged. “This was more efficient.”

“It has left us somewhat awkwardly positioned,” Solas said dryly.

He shifted off Fenris and they both moved onto the bed properly. Fenris then reached out at pulled the mage back on top of him.

“Are you done complaining?” he asked pointedly.

Solas looked amused. “Perhaps.”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” Solas said quite seriously. “But I don’t want…”

“To hurt me,” Fenris finished for him with a roll of his eyes. “You do realise that the markings always hurt.”

Solas grimaced. “I am aware of that.”

“So you don’t need to be squeamish.”

Solas arched an eyebrow at him. “I am also aware that the last time you had sex with a man, it was not consensual.”

Fenris growled, not really wanting to be reminded of that right now. “Well, this is. What do I have to do to get that through to you? I want this. I want you.” His eyes narrowed. “Fuck me. Right now.”

He felt the shudder that went through Solas and smirked. His smirk widened even further when he saw the predatory glint that returned to the mage’s eye before Solas leaned down and kissed him. Fenris relaxed into the kiss and hummed his approval. They’d been doing this enough that he was finally comfortable with it, no longer tensing up or getting nervous. Solas kissed well – soft, questioning kisses that quickly turned hard and demanding and he loved it when Fenris returned the kisses in the same way. 

He shivered when Solas began kissing his way down the markings on his neck and now, for the first time since that disastrous first kiss, he felt the mage’s magic slither into the lyrium in his skin. He tensed nervously for a moment then relaxed and just let himself feel. He moaned a little as the magic curled and coiled its way along the lyrium all over his body and he arched into Solas’ lips and hands. 

“Good?” Solas murmured as he slid his hands under Fenris’ shirt and started working it off.

Apprehension still sparked along Fenris’ nerves at the thought of allowing magic to be used on him but it felt so _good_ that it was hard to think of it as bad or dangerous. And it was Solas, who had proven time and again that he would not hurt Fenris.

He nodded. “Very good,” he said in a strangled tone as he took over from Solas and yanked his shirt off. “Keep going.”

“Tell me if you wish for me to stop,” Solas said.

“Yes- _ahhh_!” 

Fenris arched into Solas’ hands again, chasing the sensation that felt so good. He heard the mage’s smug chuckle but ignored it. He felt Solas’ lips against the skin of his chest, little sparks chasing down the lines of lyrium every time he encountered one and paused to lick at it. The pleasure grew and grew within him until it felt almost overwhelming and he made a strangled noise that caused to Solas to stop what he was doing. The magic in his markings eased off as well and he closed his eyes and threw one arm over them.

“Vhenan?” Solas said gently.

“I’m fine,” Fenris panted. “It just… it was… too much for a moment.”

“We don’t have to do this…” Solas began.

Fenris growled as he reared off the bed, upending Solas and straddling his hips. He rested his hands on either side of the mage’s head and leaned down.

“We are _not_ stopping,” he snarled as he rolled his hips down.

He had the satisfaction of seeing Solas’ stoic mask crack with that move and, when he did it again, break entirely. He rather abruptly found himself on his back again and just for a moment he tensed against the expected onslaught of magic through his markings. It never came. Instead as Solas claimed his mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, he felt those tendrils of magic once again curl along the lyrium. It was gentler this time, more delicate, something designed to enhance, not overwhelm.

He didn’t notice when the rest of his clothes and all of Solas’ disappeared, he was so caught up in his pleasure. He _did_ notice when Solas’ body came into contact with his. He moaned at the feel of skin against skin and pulled Solas into a kiss. He thrust up against the mage and was rewarded with a string of Elvhen obscenities that made him laugh. Solas rolled his hips down against him and sent a pulse of magic along the markings and Fenris was lost again.

They moved against each other restlessly, their mouths meeting in desperate kisses until Fenris gave a low, incoherent cry and spilled over between them. Solas followed him almost immediately, muffling his groan in the skin of Fenris’ shoulder.

As Fenris drifted, sated and still buzzing from the aftereffects of the magic in his lyrium, a series of images and sensations surfaced in his mind. An older elven woman whose face bore a strong resemblance to his own. A snatch of a song, soft and sweet. A young girl’s voice calling, “Leto! Leto! Wait for me!” He gasped and shifted underneath Solas, dislodging the mage and drawing his immediate attention.

“Fenris? Vhenan?” Solas said, his hands cupping Fenris’ face. “What is wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Fenris frowned and shook his head. Even as he chased them, the images… _memories?_... started to slip away until he could remember nothing other than that they had been there. Just not what they had been about.

“Fenris?”

He blinked and focused on Solas, who was watching him with a worried expression. “I… I think I remembered.”

“Remembered what?” Solas asked softly.

“My past,” Fenris whispered. “But… it’s gone.” He scrambled out of the bed and started pacing, one hand clutching at his hair. “I… It’s gone, Solas. It was there. I remembered. Now it’s gone.”

Hands caught his shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. “Shh. Easy, vhenan.” Solas cradled his face in his hands again. “What we just did… it triggered these memories?”

Fenris frowned and grimaced. “I… I don’t know.” He pulled away, catching the flash of hurt on Solas’ face but _needing_ to keep moving. “Yes. I think so.”

“You said you remembered but now it’s gone?” Solas asked, still in that gentle tone.

Fenris nodded and he came to a halt, dropping down to a crouch as he ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know if I can do this. What if it happens every time?”

He looked up as Solas knelt in front of him and gently caught his wrists, pulling his hands away from his hair and holding on to them loosely. Fenris realised they were both still naked and smeared with their combined spend. He frowned and shook his head, still caught in his own confusion.

“If it happens again then, if you wish, we shall chase the rabbit and see if we can pursue it down the rabbit hole,” Solas said quietly but firmly. “But if you do not wish to have such memories rise again then we need not do this again.” He was silent for a moment. “My desire to have you by my side is not dependent on sex, Fenris. I would be happy if all I could do was kiss you and hold you in my arms.”

Fenris stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot mean that.”

Solas let go of one hand and reached out to caress Solas’ cheek. “I do. I mean every word.”

Fenris stared at him until he realised that Solas was telling the truth. He sagged and fell forward into Solas’ arms. He didn’t cry, he wasn’t sure he knew how to do that anymore, but he did shudder and shake until he felt like he was going to fall apart. When the shaking finally subsided, he allowed Solas to help him to his feet. The mage cleaned them both off and tucked him into bed. He moved around the room, dousing all but a few of the candles, then joined him in the bed, pulling him into his embrace.

“Sleep, my wolf,” Solas murmured. 

Fenris shifted slightly at that term of endearment then allowed sleep to claim him. The ups and downs of the day had exhausted him and as much as his instinct was to run, he made himself stay and sleep. He needed to stop running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to bring that aspect of what happens in the Fenris romance in DA2 into this story but I was not going to do the whole three year separation thing here. Just no.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after and they talk about a few things. Then Solas discovers something about Fenris' marks that neither of them like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, looky here, I found two chapters I wrote a few weeks ago and forgot to publish in the rush of end of year stuff at work. So you can have them now as a belated Christmas present. :D

When Fenris woke, he felt heavy and drained. He was still being held by Solas but from the tenor of the elf’s breathing, he was awake and had been for some time. He shifted slightly, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Vhenan?”

Fenris moved just far enough to look up. Solas did indeed look like he’d been awake from some time and was, in fact, reading from a piece of parchment. Though now, he was looking down at Fenris with concern.

Fenris grunted and buried his face in Solas’ neck. The mage chuckled and he felt a hand running through his hair and down his back in long, slow soothing motions. He let himself drift and drowse, almost lulled back into sleep by the gentle action. It hadn’t escaped him that last night had been the first time they’d slept face to face. He waited for the sense of unease or even low level panic to rise within him but it didn’t. It was as though everything that had happened last night and the way Solas had handled it and reacted to it had removed the last of his remaining wariness of the mage.

“Did you really mean what you said last night?” he murmured, shifting only enough to allow himself to speak clearly.

Solas’ hand stopped for the briefest moment then continued. “Yes. I very much enjoyed what we did last night. I would very much like to do more. But not at the expense of your happiness and well-being.”

Fenris was silent for a moment. “Why?”

There was silence in response but Solas’ hand never stopped its long, slow caress through his hair and down his back. He waited patiently for Solas to decide what he was going to do and say.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” Solas finally said. “You have quite stolen my heart. Enough that I have thrown all my plans into disarray. Revealed myself to you because I no longer wished to lie to you. Why would I not consider your happiness and well-being to be more important than my base desires?”

“What about your happiness?” Fenris asked.

Solas made a soft sound. “How could I be happy if I knew I was causing you distress?” He fell silent and when he spoke again, there was a thread of amusement rippling through his voice. “Vhenan, in the past, I have gone centuries without having sex. It is not that much of a hardship.”

Fenris nuzzled into Solas’ neck again. “I… I want to. I liked it. I just… wasn’t expecting what happened.”

“Do you remember nothing of these memories?” Solas asked softly, his hand still gently stroking from Fenris’ hair and down his back.

“No,” Fenris mumbled. “I don’t… I can’t remember what they were about, just that I remembered something about my life before.”

Solas sighed and pressed a kiss against his hair. “There are spells, ancient spells, that can draw memories to the surface but your situation is… unique. They’re designed for the memory loss caused by head injuries and illness. I don’t know if the spells would help or… cause even more damage. The kind of intense trauma you suffered is rare and the spells were not designed for it.”

Fenris snorted. “It is bad enough I have lost as much as I have. I will not risk losing more.”

“That was my thought as well.” Solas sighed again. “Unfortunately, while I have some facility with healing spells, it was not a discipline I concentrated on so I don’t know if there are… _were_ other spells that might be of use. If I could… well, never mind.”

“If you could what?” Fenris asked, raising his head and resting his chin on Solas’ chest.

Solas let his fingers drift down into a caress along Fenris’ cheek. “I believe there is… something left of Arlathan. Fragments that still exist in the Fade, if only I could reach them. I hope that one of them might be Vir Dirthara, the great library of Arlathan. There was much in the way of knowledge in that library.”

“How could you get there?”

“The eluvians,” Solas replied. “They still exist and can be used, if one knows the key.”

Fenris grimaced. “An eluvian?”

“You mentioned your friend Merrill possessed one,” Solas said mildly.

“She is not my friend,” Fenris said archly, though there was an edge to his tone that said that he may not necessarily believe that. “But yes, she does. A broken one.”

“Yes, I remember that.” Solas returned to running his hand up and down Fenris’ back. “It was Blighted in some way.”

“Apparently,” Fenris said with obvious disinterest. “It certainly killed at least one person from her clan.”

“Interesting,” Solas said in a thoughtful tone.

Fenris settled down again. “If you say so.”

He heard and felt Solas’ chuckle. “Did you truly dislike her?”

Fenris was silent for a moment. “Not really. She was just… naïve. And irritating.”

“Naïve is hardly a crime,” Solas said, sounding amused.

Fenris shrugged as best as he could with the way he was lying. “She was a blood mage.”

“Ah,” Solas said with sudden understanding.

“She talks about spirits and demons the same way you do,” Fenris added, not wanting to get into a discussion on blood magic and his issues with it.

“I would like to meet her at some point,” Solas said.

Fenris grunted. “She’s still living in Kirkwall as far as I know.”

“Later then. We have a more important matter in front of us right now,” Solas said dryly.

Fenris was silent for a moment, letting himself drift under the feeling of Solas’ caresses. He had rarely ever allowed himself this kind of laziness, even now he tended to be up and moving as soon as he woke. It was a holdover from both his time as a slave – when no slave ever slept in for fear of punishment – and from having to watch his back on his own. This though… if ever he doubted whether or not he trusted Solas, this gave him the answer. He did. He trusted the mage to watch his back while he drowsed and relaxed and for once he knew that trust was not misplaced.

“Why did you do it?” he murmured after an indeterminate amount of time.

“Do what?”

“Bring down the Veil,” Fenris said. “You said it was because of Mythal.”

“They murdered her,” Solas said, his voice full of sorrow.

“She was your friend?”

“Yes,” Solas said with a sigh. “One of the few who never chided me for my… differences.”

“Differences?”

Solas chuckled softly. “I was never much like the rest of my kin. We loved each other, each in our own ways, but they saw their power and skill as a cause for celebration, a reason to raise themselves above the People. I only saw it as a means to safeguard the People. Mythal… she understood my point of view, even if she didn’t agree with all of it.” He was silent for a moment. “You have met her, you know.”

Fenris propped his chin on Solas’ chest. “I have?” He twitched as the obvious answer came to mind. “Flemeth. Asha’bellanar was what Merrill called her.”

Solas chuckled again. “Woman of many years. Yes, no doubt she is.”

“I knew she wasn’t an ordinary mage,” Fenris added. “And she knew what I had once been.”

“She does tend to know these things,” Solas replied. “I can be unnerving, I’ll admit.”

Fenris grunted. “She turned into a dragon.”

Solas laugh was open and honest. “Yes, I know. She has always liked the form.” He rolled his eyes. “I always thought it was a bit ostentatious.”

“Like plastering wolf images everywhere?” Fenris said dryly. “They’re all over the place.”

“I noticed.” Solas looked vaguely disconcerted. “It’s… odd considering the opinion the Dalish have of me.”

A look of hurt flashed over Solas’ face and Fenris frowned.

“You don’t like it? I thought you didn’t really care about them.”

Solas shifted and finally set aside the parchment he’d been reading. His expression flickered then he sighed and it finally settled into something rather melancholy with a hint of misery.

“People used to use my name, use Fen’Harel, as a… a blessing,” he admitted. “May the Dread Wolf take you was an… expression of care. A wish. A plea even. Said by slaves to each other in a kind of prayer that I would indeed come and take them. Free them. Save them. Now, it’s a curse. Something said with disdain and dislike, even anger.” He bowed his head and sighed. “I just wanted to save the People.”

Fenris looked at Solas and wondered just how old the mage was by the standards of the ancient elves. Was he as young and lost as he sounded with that statement or was he as old as a wizened sage but strangely naïve? Or was the question pointless, was the difference between the way the world had been to the way it was now too great to give an answer to that question?

“They… we… are alive,” he said.

Solas snorted. “But not free, not really. Slaves in Tevinter, in alienages everywhere else or living in ignorance like the Dalish. We once were so great.”

“And there are better ways of solving that than destroying the world,” Fenris growled.

Solas resumed those soothingly caresses through his hair and down his back. “Easy, vhenan. This is not the time or place for that conversation.”

Fenris grumbled and muttered under his breath and he let Solas soothe him back into relaxation. He did not miss the fact that Solas had chosen not to even enter into debate about his asinine plans but he was also willing to admit that it would be a bad start to the day to get riled up this early.

He let himself drift and he suspected he even snoozed a little bit. Then he became aware of something. Solas had gone from a general brush down his back to his fingers tracing along the markings that curled along his back and as he concentrated a little more, he could feel the tiniest little sparks of magic within them.

He waited for the familiar panic to rise but… it didn’t. He didn’t know what Solas was doing but this again was an extension of the trust he felt for his lover. He trusted that Solas wasn’t doing anything nefarious.

“What are you doing?” he said in a low voice.

“Hmm?” Solas sounded absent-minded and surprised.

“With my markings.”

The fingers tracing his markings came to a sudden halt and the magic stopped. “Fenris,” Solas sounded horrified. “Forgive me.”

“What were you doing?” Fenris asked calmly.

Solas was silent for a moment. “I was trying to… understand them.”

“Why?”

“There was something odd about them that was… picking at me.” Solas sighed. “Fenris…”

Fenris raised his head and propped his chin on Solas’ chest again. “I’m not angry. It didn’t hurt or feel bad. I barely noticed it until I was actually concentrating.” He licked his lips. “Which should terrify me or make me angry but… I do trust you.”

Solas caressed his cheek, looking at him solemnly. “I am not certain I deserve that trust.”

“Because you’re an idiot who wants to destroy the world?” Fenris said dryly.

“Because I promised you I would not do anything with your markings without your permission,” Solas said, looking unamused.

“What’s odd about them?” Fenris rolled his eyes. “Other than the obvious fact that I have lyrium branded into my skin.”

“I…” Solas frowned. “May I continue with what I was doing?”

Fenris gave a huff then nodded. “Yes.”

He felt that tiny trickle of magic again. It was a strange sort of feeling. It didn’t feel anything like the magic that Solas had used on them the previous night. That had been arousing and pleasurable. This was… simply strange. Solas frowned slightly as the magic continued to crawl through his body and Fenris watched him carefully. Solas twitched and drew in a hissing breath and Fenris’ eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” he said.

In reply, Solas let out a string of Elvhen words that Fenris couldn’t understand but suspected were exceedingly rude.

“What is it?” he demanded, propping himself a bit better and raising an eyebrow at the look of muted fury on Solas’ face.

Solas swallowed several times, his jaw working as he contained his anger. “The markings are unstable.”

Fenris sat up and glared at his lover. “What do you mean?”

Solas also shifted so that he was sitting. “They are inherently unstable. I cannot tell if it was deliberate or accidental. I only know that they are unstable.”

“What do you mean by unstable?” Fenris growled.

The look Solas gave him was bleak but that thread of anger was still very present in the background. “If they are not maintained by magic, they will… collapse.”

Fenris tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “Maintained. What does that mean?”

“That I can’t exactly say,” Solas replied. “Clearly they have not become unstable in the years since you left Danarius. How much magic has been used on you in that time?”

Fenris shrugged one shoulder. “Some,” he said with discomfort. “Healing when it was bad and Hawke insisted. Wards on occasion if Anders was with us.”

Solas made a contemplative noise “And you’ve had offensive spells cast on you?”

“Of course.” Fenris shifted slightly. “Why?”

Solas held out a hand. It was obvious from his body language that it was a request, not a demand. Fenris hesitated for a moment then placed his hand in his lover’s. Solas turned it over and ran his fingers along the lyrium lines that ran along Fenris’ palm. He could feel the barely there tingle of Solas’ magic.

“It seems that was enough or…” Solas mused. He looked up. “It seems that the general magic that has been used on or near you has been sufficient to keep them stable. Of course, I can’t say how long it would take to destabilise them so maybe it was irrelevant.”

Fenris watched as Solas ran his long slender fingers along the lyrium in his palm. The tingle of magic was no longer present and the mage seemed more intrigued than anything else.

“Could you find out?” he asked reluctantly. “As little as I like them, I suspect I would like them destabilising even less.”

Solas exerted a gentle pressure on Fenris’ hand and he allowed himself to be pulled into the mage’s embrace.

“I could but it would be… perhaps intrusive isn’t quite the right word.” Solas sighed. “Uncomfortable might be a better choice.” Fenris shuddered and Solas made a soothing noise. “It can wait, vhenan. It can wait until we have time and you are ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?”

Solas was silent for a moment. “I do believe that this is something that needs to be done now that we know. If I can find out why they are unstable, I may be able to stabilise them permanently.”

Fenris nodded then drew in a deep breath and pulled away. He paused then straddled Solas’ lap and kissed him thoroughly. He smirked when he drew back as the mage looked more than a little dazed.

“I should get up,” he said. “Cullen wanted my help with the recruits.”

Solas licked his lips and looked up at Fenris at he got off the bed, a smile playing around his lips. “You have made it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on the work I intended to do this morning.”

Fenris smirked as he began to get dressed. “Good.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adamant and the Fade, where they discover that Fenris' markings do not react well with the raw Fade and Hawke gets a talking to that he desperately needs.

Adamant Fortress was a remarkable piece of construction and yet, as Fenris watched with bemusement, Cullen was doing an equally remarkable job of deconstructing it, piece by piece, stone by stone. He’d assumed that Cullen knew what he was doing in his role but this was the first time he’d seen the man truly in action and he was very impressed. The Wardens might be brave and courageous but if it was a contest between their courage and Cullen’s determination, Fenris knew where he was going to place his coins.

When the gates were breached, Fenris joined the Inquisitor and the others in fighting their way through to where the Warden Mages were being the damned fools Fenris had thought they were being. The appearance of the dragon and the actions of the Warden Commander were unexpected but he didn’t have time to think about it as he, Solas and Varric followed the Inquisitor, Hawke and Stroud as they gave chase. He’d have given some credit to Clarel for her courage if her asinine actions hadn’t been what had required it in the first place. But it was all in vain as they fell from the battlements then, as they watched, Kaaras held out his hand and opened the rift below them and they fell through.

Fenris had no idea what happened next. The moment they passed through the rift, his markings burst to life and sent gouts of pain lashing through him. He grunted as he came to an unexpectedly soft landing on the ground and then he curled over as he was wracked with pain. He barely heard the conversation going on between the others then he felt hands on his shoulders.

“Vhenan? What is wrong?”

“Fenris?”

Fenris groaned as he let himself lean towards Solas until his forehead was resting on the mage’s shoulder. He could feel the way his markings were flickering and pulsing and each time a spark of pain shot through him.

“I’ve never seen his marks do that before,” Hawke said in a low, worried voice.

“Vhenan.” Solas gently coaxed him into kneeling, cradling his face in both hands. “What is happening?”

Fenris tried to get the pain under control but it was relentless. “Hurts,” he said through gritted teeth.

“They must be reacting to the raw Fade,” Solas said grimly, partly to Fenris but mostly to the others. “They’ve never shown any signs of hurting when I’ve drawn him into Fade dreams but this is a considerably different situation.”

“No shit, Chuckles,” came Varric’s blunt reply. “We’re _in_ the Fade, not just dreaming. Not that I dream.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Kaaras asked, sounding as worried as Hawke.

Solas was silent for a moment. “Maybe.” He brushed his thumbs along Fenris’ cheekbones. “Vhenan, can you look at me?”

Fenris forced his head up and his eyes open. From the expression that flickered across Solas’ face he knew that the pain he was experiencing must be obvious.

“I think I know a way to ease the pain but…” He hesitated and his lips thinned. “It will essentially cut off your access to the markings temporarily. You won’t be able to use your abilities.”

“Not sure I could anyway,” Fenris gasped. “I can’t… can’t control this. Can’t control them.”

Solas nodded and pulled his hands away from Fenris’ face. His nimble fingers quickly stripped off the gauntlets the warrior was wearing then he turned Fenris’ hands palm up and covered them with his own hands.

“I need access to your marks,” he murmured. “This will feel decidedly strange but you must relax. I will not hurt you.”

Fenris nodded and bit his bottom lip. “I know. Trust you.”

He didn’t see Hawke’s look of surprise as Solas began his work. At first, it didn’t seem like anything was happening then he felt the cool familiar relief of Solas’ magic flooding through the markings. In its wake came… nothing. It was as though the lyrium wasn’t even there. He was fairly sure this is what he must have felt like before the lyrium had been branded into his skin, though he had no memory of that. But the pain faded into nothing as the magic spread along his markings and numbed them. He shuddered and gave a sigh of relief, letting himself slump down onto Solas’ shoulder again. He smiled faintly at the mage’s chuckle and made a small sound of acknowledgement when Solas removed one hand from his and began to run it through his hair.

“How long?” he asked when he felt a bit better.

“A couple of hours,” Solas replied, not needing any clarification. “Hopefully we will be long gone from here before it wears off.”

Fenris settled back on his knees and raised an eyebrow at Solas. Now that he wasn’t wracked with pain, there was an edge of humour in his gaze.

“You wish to leave the Fade? You?”

Solas sighed and gave him an exasperated look. “I wish to leave this part of the Fade. It is… unpleasant. Something rather inimical dwells here.”

“That’s reassuring,” Hawke said.

Fenris looked around and saw Hawke was crouched down not far away, watching them with concern and curiosity. When the mage realised Fenris was looking at him, he gave a quirk of a smile.

“Hey. You okay?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Solas and Hawke followed suit as he rolled his shoulders and grimaced a little at the… lack of feeling from his markings. They had been a part of him for so long that not being able to feel or access them now felt strange and unnerving.

“I will be. Once we are out of here,” he said sourly.

Adaar loomed up beside them, Stroud following in his wake, and placed a hand gently on Fenris’ shoulder. “Everything okay?” He snorted. “Well, as okay as it’s going to get?”

Fenris nodded. “Yes. Let’s get going. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can get out of here.”

Adaar nodded in understanding and led the way further into the Fade. The sporadic fights and skirmishes were… difficult for Fenris. He hadn’t realised how much he relied on his markings in battle until he quite literally couldn’t use them. But he managed and they slowly worked their way through the Fade with the aid of the spirit masquerading as the Divine. 

The fight against the Nightmare was exactly that, despite the intervention of the Divine’s spirit. The damn thing kept warping all over the battlefield and summoning lesser demons and by the time they subdued it, Fenris was exhausted. One glance told him that the others were in much the same shape.

“Go! Quickly!” Adaar bellowed, giving Varric a shove towards the rift.

Fenris didn’t need to be told twice and nor did Solas. They ran up beside the dwarf and hustled him forward, giving him a push to get through the rift. Fenris went next then Solas followed him. They stumbled out of the rift and back into Adamant Fortress, where the fighting was still going strong.

“Fenris! Solas! Varric!”

Fenris turned at find the Commander bulling his way through the demons and Wardens towards them, using his shield indiscriminately to shove them out of his way. He looked utterly relieved to see them.

“Where is the Inquisitor?” Cullen demanded.

“He was right behind us,” Varric said.

They all turned back to look at the rift. No one else had yet come out. But then it flared and Hawke leapt through, looking like he was caught between anger and despair. Right on his heels came Adaar. The Inquisitor’s expression was grief-stricken but he turned and held out his hand, giving the little twist that caused it to catch, and he closed the rift.

The remaining demons howled and disappeared and the Warden mages suddenly staggered and looked confused and dazed. The Warden warriors slowly halted before finally dropping their swords. And as simply as that, the battle was over.

Fenris slumped against Solas and let the mage draw him over towards a low wall. He could hear the Inquisitor speaking to the Wardens and it sounded very inspiring in its tone but he found he really couldn’t care less what was being said. It was over. The Nightmare demon was defeated, Erimond’s plan was done and all the aches and pains and small wounds he’d received in Fade were now making themselves known.

“Vhenan?” Solas said, crouching down in front of him. “Are you with me?”

Fenris nodded wearily. “Yes.”

“Let me remove the spell from you,” Solas said, placing his hands on Fenris’ wrists.

Fenris nodded and Solas closed his eyes briefly. Magic threaded its way through the markings and in its wake, the markings returned to normal. He gave a sigh of relief and raised his head to look around. The Wardens were gathering their dead and the Inquisition soldiers were doing the same. There was no sign of Cullen or the Inquisitor but Hawke and Varric were standing not far away, watching them with concern.

“Everything okay?” Hawke asked, walking over to join them.

Solas nodded. “I was just removing the spell I placed on Fenris’ markings.”

“You look like hell, Broody,” Varric said with rough sympathy before digging out a small metal flask from one pocket and holding it out to him. “Get some of this into you.”

Fenris took the flask and took a drink. He coughed a little at the strong spirit that was in the flask then handed it back with a small smile of thanks.

“It is the first time I have fought without the abilities my markings give me,” he said. “It was… more difficult than I expected.” Hawke looked like he wasn’t sure what to say. Fenris snorted with amusement. “Using my abilities has become a habit, it seems.”

“I don’t think there is anything more we can do here,” Solas said as he got to his feet. He held out one hand to Fenris. “Come. Let’s head back to the camp.”

Fenris nodded and allowed Solas to pull him to his feet. Hawke and Varric joined them as they headed for the gates but there wasn’t much in the way of conversation. They were all tired and just a little bit disturbed by what had happened in the Fade.

“What happened to Stroud?” Fenris finally asked. From the looks on Solas’ face, it was the question he’d wanted answered as well, though Varric seemed to already know the answer.

“The Nightmare came back right after you three had gone through the rift,” Hawke said heavily. “One of us needed to stay to distract it so the other two could escape. I volunteered. So did Stroud. The Inquisitor chose Stroud.”

There was a moment of silence then Fenris made a sound like an irritated cat.

“You are an idiot, Hawke.”

“What?” Hawke yelped. “How is wanting to fight that damn thing being an idiot? It’s my fault Corypheus is loose in the first place.”

“No, it is not,” Fenris said firmly. “And we killed him. I should know. It was my blade that made the killing blow. Are you going to blame me for his reappearance?”

Hawke looked flabbergasted. “What? No! Of course not. It wasn’t your fault, Fenris.”

“Then how is it yours?” Fenris said dryly. “Yes, you opened the wards but then we killed him. He was very dead when we left. If he somehow found a way back, that is not your fault.”

Hawke sighed and looked very, very weary. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard to make myself believe it.”

“Try,” Fenris said so dryly that the others laughed. “And stop blaming yourself for Stroud.”

Hawke looked at him curiously. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“A great many things,” Fenris replied then he snorted. “I spent a few nights talking to him on the trip here. He said he wasn’t sure at first whether the Calling he was hearing was true or not. It was only when he realised all the other Wardens were hearing it that he realised it couldn’t be his Calling.”

“His Calling?” Hawke repeated in a baffled tone. “And why didn’t he tell me any of this?”

“He did,” Fenris replied. “Or at least he tried. He said you weren’t really listening. But yes, he knew his time was coming so he thought it was real at first. He was preparing to go to the Deep Roads when he found out about the other Wardens.”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” Hawke admitted.

“I believe I understand,” Solas said quietly. “Hawke, you are young and you still have much to do in this life. Stroud’s life was almost over. By staying, he was not losing anything. Merely dying in a way that suited him. Had you sacrificed yourself, Stroud would still have died, have gone to the Deep Roads, in a few years anyway. Nothing was going to stop that. It is the nature of being a Warden as I understand it. You however still have much to do and now you have the time in which to do it.”

Hawke frowned and looked down as they walked. He was silent for most of the rest of the way back to the Inquisition encampment and the others were content to let him mull over Fenris and Solas’ words. They were within sight of the camp when he finally sighed.

“I… see your point,” he said slowly. “I’m not happy about it. He was a good man and he deserved better than being abandoned in the Fade.”

“Hardly abandoned,” Solas said reprovingly. “His sacrifice should be honoured, not demeaned.”

Hawke’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Besides,” Solas continued, ignoring Hawke’s reaction. “He may yet survive. His nobility and courage will draw spirits willing to fight at his side. As for what will happen to him if he survives his battle with the Nightmare, well, the Fade is a curious place. One never quite knows what may happen there.”

“Not even you?” Fenris said with dry amusement.

“Not even me,” Solas said with a smile. “Though I do know more than most.”

Hawke watched the byplay between them with a tiny smile on his face. “I think I actually feel better about that.”

“Honour his sacrifice, Hawke,” Solas said. “And mourn him properly but do not dwell on what might have been. It is pointless doing so and you will only make yourself feel bad for no reason.”

Hawke nodded and though they could tell he was not entirely convinced, he did seem much easier. They had arrived back at the camp by now and they split up at that point. Hawke and Varric headed in one direction while Fenris and Solas walked back to their tent. The encampment was quiet except for around the healers’ tents. Most of the army was still at Adamant and would be for some time, only the injured had yet been brought back.

Once they were in their tent, Fenris shucked off his sword with a groan and started picking at the buckles and straps of his armour. He fumbled for a moment then he sighed.

“Solas.”

The mage looked over from where he had been removing the outermost parts of his own armour and then he chuckled. He set his tunic aside and came over, his fingers working nimbly on the buckles and straps. 

“I am glad you asked for my help this time.”

Fenris sighed with relief as Solas removed his chest piece. “I do learn. Sometimes.”

“So I see,” Solas said as he helped him remove the rest of his armour. Once that was done, Fenris stood there in just his tunic and leggings and simply stared at the floor for a moment.

“Come,” Solas said gently and tugged him over to the low folding stool in the corner. He stripped off the remainder of Fenris’ clothing and got him to sit down. He summoned ice into a bowl and melted it then began to gently wash the dirt and blood and the remnants of the Fade from Fenris’ skin.

Fenris closed his eyes and submitted to the ministrations, only moving when Solas murmured instructions to him. When the mage was done, he allowed himself to be drawn to his feet and bundled in their bedroll.

“Sleep, vhenan,” Solas murmured, running his hand gently through Fenris’ hair.

Fenris murmured under his breath and did as he was told.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris chats with Kaaras, teases Solas and then has a very interesting conversation with Madame Vivienne. His opinion? She is one of the most dangerous people he's ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Was it really December when I last updated? Sorry about that. My muses have been fickle of late.

Fenris woke to the feeling of a hand running through his hair and the sound of low voices murmuring over him. In the past, this might have ripped him from his sleep and had him halfway across the room in a defensive position but he recognised the voice closest to him as Solas’ so he simply stayed where he was and let himself slowly awaken. Once he was a little more conscious, he shifted slightly, stretching a few muscles then grunting when they sparked and ached from the previous day’s battle.

“Good morning, vhenan,” Solas said with a low chuckle.  
Fenris opened his eyes and found that Solas had clearly been awake from some time as he was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed so he could run his hand through Fenris’ hair. He shifted just enough to see that Adaar was the other person in the tent and the Vashoth mage smiled fondly at him.

“You sleep very… firmly,” Adaar said with a grin. “At first I thought you were just aggressively ignoring us but then I realised you _were_ actually still asleep.”

Fenris blushed a little. He’d changed greatly from his days as a slave when he would have woken at even a hint of someone being in the room. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be unhappy with the change. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the blankets bunching around his waist as he grumbled and winced. He was feeling the full effects of not only the fighting but also the effects the Fade had had on his markings before Solas had used his spell. When he was sitting up, he looked over and saw the Inquisitor looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

“Sorry,” Kaaras said hurriedly. “I just… I knew they were extensive but… I don’t know… I never thought…”

“They were everywhere?” Fenris said dryly, leaning into Solas.

Kaaras nodded. “The bastard really is dead, right?”

Fenris chuckled. “Yes, he is.”

“Good.” Kaaras winced. “Okay, I understand why it was so bad when we ended up in the Fade.”

“It was not pleasant.”

“How are you feeling this morning, vhenan?” Solas asked, one hand rubbing soothingly along Fenris’ back.

“Tired. Achey,” Fenris replied. “I should get up and do some sparring.”

“You’re as bad as Cullen,” Adaar said with a sigh. “I know he got _some_ sleep but he was still awake when I passed out and he was up before I woke so it can’t have been much. The man needs to learn to let go a bit.”

Fenris snorted. He’d gotten to know Cullen quite well since he started training the soldiers and he’d found he liked the man. He had back in Kirkwall but that had been different. Cullen had been different. The man he knew now was a good one. Like Fenris, he had his demons but he was doing his best to put them behind him and become the man he wanted to be. He’d spoken to Fenris about Kinloch Hold and what had happened there. Not in depth but just enough for Fenris to know that he and Cullen had a great deal more than he’d thought in common.

“Send Dorian to him,” he said dryly. “That might work.”

Kaaras laughed and Solas chuckled. “You know, you might be right,” Adaar said with a grin.

“I interrupted you,” Fenris said as he leaned against Solas a bit more.

“It wasn’t anything important,” Kaaras replied. “I’m just still a little… I don’t know… confused maybe, about what happened in the Fade. I was just asking Solas some questions.”

“Not that I could give much in the way of answers, I fear,” Solas replied and Fenris could see that the mage meant that, he wasn’t hiding behind the mask of the simple apostate. “It is rare to find a spirit or demon that is as powerful as the Nightmare. It has been feeding well and for a long time.”

“Those things we found in the Fade,” Adaar began. “The… notes and so on. Would they be genuine?”

Solas nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Nightmares and fears swallowed up by the demon. They went back to the Blight. That may well be when the Nightmare began to grow in strength. A Blight would cause many fears for it to feed upon and grow strong.”

Adaar nodded. “That makes sense.” He sighed. “I’m glad it’s over, though I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy Halamshiral any better. I’ve heard a great deal about the Orlesians and being called ox-man isn’t my favourite activity.”

“Is it any better than knife ear or rabbit?” Fenris said dryly. “Or being considered a servant because what else could an elf be?”

“Ouch,” Kaaras said. “That sounds like experience talking.”

Fenris grimaced. “We went to Chateau Haine once. It didn’t go well.”

“I’ve _got_ to finish reading _Tale of the Champion_ ,” Kaaras said. “I’m clearly missing all the good bits.”

“You have an interesting definition of good,” Fenris said dryly. “But if you mean we were played for fools by a Ben Hassrath agent, then you might be close.”

Both Kaaras’ eyebrows went up. “Is that why you were wary around Bull at first?”

“Yes and no,” Fenris replied. “She was not the first Ben Hassrath I have met, just the most annoying. But I have had experience with both the Qunari and the Ben Hassrath and I wasn’t sure where he stood on the spectrum.”

“And now?” Kaaras asked.

Fenris hesitated. “I trust him. To a certain extent.”

Kaaras nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think he’d turn on the Inquisition?”

“No,” Fenris replied. “Or at least not while the Breach is still in the sky. That means more to the Qunari than anything else right now or they wouldn’t have sent him.”

“And after?”

Fenris shrugged. “That, I could not say. As long as we close the Breach, I doubt it. His betrayal would only come if the Qunari invaded.”

“Is that what happened with the Arishok?” Kaaras asked curiously.

Fenris snorted and looked amused. “No. In order to betray, you have to have been a friend in the first place. The Arishok was never a friend to Kirkwall. He simply could not return home without the thing he’d been sent to find and while he was a fine warrior, he was not the right person to send to a situation that required diplomacy.”

“I wouldn’t have though the Qunari would make that kind of mistake.”

“It’s hard to say if they did,” Fenris said with a shrug. “The Qunari ships foundered in a storm.”

“What were they after?”

“A book,” Fenris said, his tone turning very dry. “The Book of Koslun. Their equivalent of a sacred text. It had been stolen.” He paused. “By Isabela.”

Kaaras’ eyes widened. “Wow. I really do need to finish reading the book. How did Hawke untangle all of that?”

Both Solas and Kaaras were surprised when Fenris winced. “Single combat with the Arishok.”

“A mage against a Qunari warrior?” Kaaras said with surprise.

“That was… my fault,” Fenris replied. “I know a little Qunlat and a fair bit about how the Qun works. I was able to nudge things towards single combat but I’d hoped that Hawke would choose a champion to fight on his behalf.”

“You,” Solas said quietly.

Fenris nodded. “Or Aveline. Either one of us would have been a better option. But Hawke didn’t even think about that.”

“He won though,” Kaaras said.

Fenris chuckled. “Yes, though he likes Varric’s version of the fight better than the truth. Varric made it sound very noble and dramatic when instead it was mostly Hawke running away from the Arishok long enough to put together his spells while his dog acted as a distraction when he couldn’t run.”

Karras laughed heartily then heaved himself to his feet. “On that note, I’d better get back to work before they start sending runners out after me.”

The Inquisitor gave them a small wave then left the tent. Once he was gone, Solas turned back to Fenris and gave him a small kiss.

“How are you feeling? Truthfully?”

Fenris sighed. “I ache. I also slept far more peacefully last night than I expected.” He arched an eyebrow. “Your doing?”

Solas smiled faintly. “Not this time, no. The Fade is very turbulent in this place at the moment. The spirits who would normally linger here have fled to calmer areas. They will return in time, once the Fade quietens. The recent battle will fascinate them and there will be much for them to see and learn.”

Fenris shuddered a little at that. “Why did my markings react like that?”

“I don’t know,” Solas said with a thoughtful frown. “I would not have thought lyrium would react so strongly to the Fade but…” He made a contemplative humming noise. “There were those patches of corrupted lyrium. Perhaps the Fade was seeking to do the same to your lyrium but was unable to.”

“That is not a reassuring answer,” Fenris grumbled.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a reassuring answer for you. If it is any consolation, I do not sense any corruption within the lyrium this morning.”

Fenris grumbled again but the answer was reassuring in its way. He pulled away from the mage and climbed out of the low camp bed. He stretched up, grimacing at the stiffness and ache in his muscles and the small cracks and crunches that resulted from the stretch.

“That is a very enticing sight.”

Fenris slowly relaxed and lowered his arms then looked over his shoulder. Solas’ eyes were half-lidded and dark as they roamed over his nude body and Fenris smirked at the visible signs of Solas’ desire for him. He turned around and prowled over to his lover.

“Is it?”

Solas smiled faintly. “You know very well the effect you have on me, vhenan.”

“Perhaps you should do something about that,” Fenris said with a smirk.

“That is very tempting, however I wish to take my time and a tent is not the place for that.”

Fenris chuckled and turned abruptly to rummage in the packs they’d brought for some clothes. “That is a point. I am very interested in not concealing my enjoyment but I do not care to share that enjoyment with all.” He paused as he dressed. “That was… Danarius was not interested in my opinions.”

It was the first time he had more directly referenced what Danarius had done to him and he saw the feral anger that flared in the mage’s eyes.

“It is just as well he is dead,” Solas growled.

Fenris pulled on his shirt, having decided to forego his armour for the moment. He walked over to where Solas was sitting and kissed him. Solas surged upwards into the kiss, pulling him close and turning the kiss decidedly passionate. When they parted again, they were both a little breathless.

Fenris cradled Solas’ face with one hand. “You have never reminded me of him.”

He pulled away and just before he turned towards the door, he saw the expression on Solas’ face. The mage was startled but there was a definite sense of relief about his expression. Fenris gave a small nod to himself when he walked out of the tent. Solas had been holding back a little and it had taken Fenris a long time to work through why that might be. He hadn’t really known how to approach it but this seemed to have worked. He found himself suddenly looking forward to their return to Skyhold.

He looked around as he got outside. The camp was far quieter than it had been prior to the battle but that didn’t surprise him. Between the injured, the dead and the need to recover, he doubted there would be much activity in the camp for the next couple of days. They weren’t on a tight timeline after all. There was still several weeks before the ball and that would be more than enough time for at least the Inquisitor’s party plus a fair chunk of the army to get back to Skyhold and then on to Halamshiral. Fenris was not looking forward to the ball but oddly enough, Solas was. He hadn’t asked why, at least not yet.

“Serah Fenris.”

Fenris turned to find Madame Vivienne approaching. Though they had reached a certain level of understanding of each other, they still hadn’t had much to do with each other, mostly due to Fenris’ efforts. 

“You don’t have to call me Serah,” he said with an arched eyebrow.

Vivienne sniffed. “Everyone deserves respect, Fenris,” she said imperiously.

Fenris stared at her for a moment. Her expression on her face was serious but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. Not directed at him but perhaps general amusement that he would argue the need for respect. He snorted and shook his head. He doubted he would ever understand Vivienne. “What did you need?”

She fell into step beside him, carefully modulating her own pace to match his. “Given our next task after this is the ball at Halamshiral, I thought you would like an update regarding the… situation we spoke of previously.”

Fenris grimaced but managed not to tense too much. “Yes, I suppose I would,” he said sourly.

Vivienne paused as a group of soldiers marched past them. “The more egregious letter writers have been… convinced to direct their energies elsewhere,” she said delicately.

Fenris arched an eyebrow at her. “And what does that mean?”

“It means they’ve been given something else to worry about,” Vivienne said, her lips curling slightly with amusement. “No need to go into details but suffice to say they are thoroughly distracted from any concerns about the Inquisitor’s companions.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed as he looked at her then he snorted with amusement. “I was going to ask but I suddenly decided I don’t want to know.”

“This is what happens when you get distracted, my dear,” Vivienne said in a lofty tone. “Other things tend to sneak up and cause havoc.”

“That could be said about the events that caused the Breach,” Fenris said dryly.

Vivienne chuckled. “You are absolutely correct there, my dear. Corypheus took excellent advantage of our distraction with the Mage-Templar conflict.” She gave him a serene look with mirth hidden in her eyes. “But what is good for the goose is also good for the gander, is it not?”

Fenris snorted. “And how long will this distraction last?”

“They’re unlikely to trouble any of us during the ball.”

“But they’ll come back to it?”

Vivienne titled her head slightly. “Perhaps. Presuming they survive their distraction. But Leliana and Josephine are tackling the Tevinter side of things.” She paused. “As is Dorian, I believe.”

Fenris shot her a look. He and the Tevinter mage were not friends, though Fenris did get along with the Altus better than he’d ever thought possible. They’d had a number of discussions, usually instigated by Dorian, about various matters though mostly revolving around magic and slavery. Those discussions had not always gone well and Fenris had come perilously close to shoving his hand into Dorian’s chest on more than one occasion. To give Dorian his credit though, he might storm off in a huff from the discussions but he never ignored them and had on several occasions come back when they were both calmer with further questions and the obvious indication that he had indeed _listened_ to what Fenris had said.

It was something of a novel experience to have a Tevinter mage actually listen to him and while he wouldn’t claim that he and Dorian were good friends, he did consider the man a ‘friend after a fashion’. Not one he completely trusted as yet but one he trusted enough. Perhaps less than Hawke but certainly more than Anders or Merrill.

“Will that work?” he asked, bitterness tinging his voice.

Vivienne looked amused. “Given how much Leliana likes solving problems at the point of a blade, yes. If Josephine and Dorian are unable to fix things their way, she most certainly will do so her way.”

Fenris considered that and then smirked. “The Magisterium could do with the shake up.”

“Dorian said much the same thing. Though with far more glee and satisfaction.”

“He would,” Fenris said with a snort. He paused and shot a sideways look at the First Enchanter. “The ball…”

Vivienne’s smile was kind. “No one is expecting you to play the Game, Fenris. Simply do your best to hold your temper. The court’s eyes will be on the Inquisitor and only marginally on his companions.”

Fenris bridled a little but then gave himself a shake. While it was true he had _observed_ the Game being played many times in Tevinter, he had no experience in playing it himself. He suspected he could play it if he tried but… as Vivienne had quite accurately determined, he didn’t have any interest in doing so, especially in the face of the prejudice he was likely to face.

“I’ll do my best,” he said dryly.

Vivienne matched that tone. “That is all any of us can ask.”

Fenris actually laughed at that. “You are not what I expected.”

“I am pleased to defy your expectations,” she replied.

Fenris glanced over at her. “Anders would hate you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Vivienne said with a regal sniff. She then softened a little. “Contrary to popular opinion, I am aware of the privilege I possess in terms of how a mage is treated. I am aware that not all Circles were of a piece and that some Templars committed shocking abuses. I am also aware that some mages committed equally shocking abuses of their own.” She sighed. “However the solution did not lie in blowing up Chantrys and pretending that any of us are actually equipped to deal with absolute freedom.” Fenris jerked at that last comment and Vivienne raised an eyebrow at him. “Fenris?”

Fenris shook his head. “That is… reminiscent of a conversation I had with Dorian regarding slavery.”

Vivienne gave him a very shrewd look. “How long did it take you to become accustomed to freedom?”

Fenris was silent for a long time as they strolled through the camp and out to a small outcropping of rocks. Vivienne sat down on the rocks as though they were the finest chair in Orlais. Fenris was amused by that. No matter what the conditions were, Vivienne never failed to look as though she belonged there.

“Sometimes I wonder if I am,” he finally said as he perched on a small outcropping not far away from the First Enchanter.

Vivienne didn’t protest. She simply nodded. “That does make sense. I have lived in a Circle since I was a child. The first time I attended a court function, I felt like a country rube in the big city.” She smiled slightly. “Not that I showed it. I knew enough of the Game to know not to do that. There are times even now when I feel the strictures of being a mage quite keenly despite all I have achieved.”

“Is that why you joined the Inquisition?”

“I joined the Inquisition because the Chantry was in shambles,” Vivienne replied. “The Inquisition showed signs of being the best option for reasserting some control. I wished to have a say in that.”

“Why?”

“Because the Circles need to be restored.” She smiled faintly. “But with improvements.”

“And you think the Inquisition can do that?” Fenris said sceptically.

“The Chantry will choose the new Divine but the Inquisition’s voice will be heard in those deliberations,” Vivienne replied. “Make no mistake about that. They will pretend not to care about the opinions of a male Vashoth mage but his voice will echo loudly in the corridors of the Chantry nonetheless.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You think Kaaras would support the Circles?”

“He and I do not always agree on such matters,” Vivienne conceded. “But he does acknowledge that a central place of learning is important to ensure all mages have a firm grasp on the basics of our craft.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “That is what happens in Tevinter.”

“Dorian has said as much,” Vivienne replied. She smiled faintly. “I have already picked his brain about how things are done in Tevinter. There are some things they do that have some merit to them and would be worth integrating into the new Circles.”

“And the Templars?”

Vivienne smiled thinly. “You have seen some of the worst mages can do. Would you not agree that Templars are necessary?”

Fenris nodded. “Yes.”

“However the rules surrounding their presence need to be reformed,” she continued briskly. “To prevent the sort of abuses that occurred in places like Kirkwall.” Her expression softened ever so briefly. “And to prevent the sort of pain Commander Cullen is currently experiencing.”

Fenris gave her a sharp look. “What?” 

Cullen had admitted to him what he was doing after he’d found the man curled over his desk in agony in the throes of a powerful migraine but he wasn’t aware that it was widely known among the Inquisition. He’d gotten the distinct impression Cullen wanted it that way. He’d offered to leave but the man had asked him to stay. Cullen had been evasive as to why but the longer Fenris had been in the room, the more Cullen’s symptoms had eased. He suspected the lyrium in his skin had offered the man some sort of surcease from his withdrawal and he’d meant to speak to Solas about whether that was healthy. It had slipped his mind in the preparations for Adamant so he made a firmer mental note to ensure he didn’t forget again.

“Do not take me for a fool, Fenris,” Viviennce said with a wintery smile. “I am perfectly aware of what lyrium withdrawal looks like. Thankfully, the Commander is no fool and has accepted and, more importantly, takes the potions I send to him.”

“Ah,” Fenris said after a short pause.

Vivienne nodded regally. “He is a good man and a fine Commander, even if he does not care for my company.”

“I think he’s more uncomfortable with the topic of Templars than anything else,” Fenris said dryly. “He has mixed feelings on the subject.”

“So I gathered,” Vivienne replied. “But that makes his opinion all the more valuable.”

“And mine?”

She gave him an arch look. “Your opinion on mages is also valuable. I do not ignore opinions simply because I find them unpleasant. Your experiences are valid and true; therefore your opinions should not be dismissed. If anything, your opinions stand as a… warning post, illuminating a path we should not take.”

“Many mages would disagree with you.”

She gave him another of those wintery smiles. “Many mages are idiots who refuse to look at the bigger picture or to consider the concept of actions having consequences. Admittedly that is not entirely their fault since the Circles are terribly insular.” She looked away into the distance. “But that is a luxury mages no longer have. When we were confined to our Circles, we could be as bold as we liked. It didn’t matter _because_ we were confined to our Circles. But now that the Circles are no more, we must be responsible for our actions, good or bad.”

“When a mage causes havoc and the others shrug and do nothing, it reflects poorly on all of you,” Fenris said with a slow nod.

“Precisely,” Vivienne said crisply. “Freedom comes with responsibility. Too many of my fellow mages have refused or failed to see that. _That_ is something the Inquisitor and I agree on. He understands that both as a mage and as Vashoth.”

Fenris nodded at that. “The Tal Vashoth around Kirkwall were little different from bandits.”

“Between those Tal Vashoth and the eventual actions of the Arishok and his Antaam, it is little wonder the mere mention of the word Qunari tends to set Kirkwall residents on edge.” She looked at him with amusement. “As it has with you.”

Fenris looked at himself and realised he’d clenched his hands into fists. “It was a little more personal with me,” he said grumpily.

Vivienne inclined her head. “There are many battles to come, Fenris, and not all will be fought with sword and shield or magic. Some will be purely political and sometimes the best course out of those battles will please no one. It is our job to make sure it is at least fair to as many people as possible. We must aim for the greater good, not get caught up in selfish wants and desires.”

Fenris quirked an eyebrow with the sudden realisation that Madame Vivienne de Fer was far more formidable and dangerous than most people suspected. He’d seen some hints about her personal opinions today but mostly she was looking entirely at the big picture. She saw this not only as a battle against an evil that needed to be defeated but also an opportunity to twist the world itself into a new shape, one that would benefit the most number of people. He wondered if Kaaras had any idea of the force he had in his corner.


End file.
